Walking Amongst the Butterflies
by Mizu-Tenshi
Summary: AU. Akihiko is a somewhat jaded author with severe writer's block when Takahiro introduces him to Misaki, his blind little brother who has been in hospital since the car crash. Together, they try to forge their own way through life. UsamiXMisaki
1. Pastorale

UsamixMisaki but will have Egoist cemeos. This was both enjoyable and frustrating to write because, no matter how many times I changed it, it was never as perfect as I wanted it to be, but I'm very happy with this final version.

On a note: The names of each chapter refers to a certain way of playing music. Since music is a key theme in this fic, I thought it was appropriate.

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**Walking amongst the butterflies**

**- Pastorale - **

XX

"Takahiro, I don't know…" Usami Akihiko trailed behind his friend as they walked along the sunny sidewalk to that dreaded place.

Takahiro stopped and turned towards him, sighing in a manner that wrapped itself around Akihiko's heart. "Please, Usagi, Minami and I _have _to go to Osaka, it's for work but I can't bring him with me."

Akihiko's protests almost completely dissolved before his friend. He could never say no to Takahiro but he really did not want to do this. He really, really, really did not want to do this.

"I still don't know," he weakly objected.

"I wouldn't ask you if I could help it. You don't have to do anything, just…be there," Takahiro looked at him imploringly and he knew that there was no way he could possibly refuse now.

"Be there, huh?" he muttered under his breath, drawing a cigarette from his breast pocket. He would not be allowed to smoke once he was inside so he should have one now. God knew, he would be needing a smoke by the end of the day.

Well, it was not like he had anything better to do. He could not go any further with his writing, he could not go any further with his life; both had come to a screeching halt at one point or another. He would liked to have blamed it on Minami and Takahiro's marriage - there went the love of his life, hitched to some woman and still as clueless as ever - but it was not Minami's fault and it was not Takahiro's fault either. It was his.

He just could not write anymore, he had even lost the spark on those BL novels. The worst spell of writer's block since he had become a professional novelist. He was getting slammed for his works in the literary journals too. When you fell, everyone was clamouring to take a blow at you.

With a sigh, Akihiko snuffed out his half smoked cigarette before entering the hospital. He scrunched up his nose as the doors slid open for them. They did not let people smoke but hospitals stank far worse than the smell of tobacco. Antiseptic, disinfectant, iodine, a slight lemony smell, it was so artificial. He had never been given a reason to be fond of hospitals.

Takahiro led him straight to a hospital room with the number 202 marked on the door. "Misaki? Misaki, I'm coming in!" he called and stepped inside.

Akihiko was not sure what to expect when Takahiro pushed open the door. He had heard the story countless times; car crash, dead parents, a crippled, precious little brother - the lone survivor.

Every time Takahiro spoke about the incident, he could feel the man's relief and pain; relief that at least his brother had survived, at least he had not been taken away too, pain that his brother's life had been practically destroyed before it could even start. Brotherly love was astounding, but to Akihiko he could only see some faceless kid who was stealing all of Takahiro's time and affection.

The door swung all the way open and they stepped inside.

Akihiko was not sure what to expect when the door shut behind them. In a white room with a single window stood a lone bed, like the first sketches an artist puts onto clean paper; faint and hesitant. The bed had such spindly legs it looked as though it could collapse, the cabinet besides it was just as thin and rickety, with a glass of water on top with a single daffodil inside.

Except he was not really paying attention to the daffodil or to the sheer curtains being billowed about in the wind. His eyes were automatically drawn to the person in the middle.

If the décor around him was like a watercolour image, the boy was an oil painting. His surroundings seemed faint and whimsical but the boy stood out against it as the one firm thing within the room.

At first, Akihiko noted how he did not look a thing like Takahiro. Were they really related? The boy's hair was dark brown and slightly spiky, his eyes bright green despite being sightless. In the mostly white room, he was the single splash of colour.

Then, the boy smiled without turning his head. "Oh, Nii-chan! How are you? Who's your friend?" he asked cheerfully. Perhaps it was true what they said; that people who lost one sense made it up with the others.

When the boy spoke, he had a plain sounding voice. There was nothing special about it at all. Akihiko smiled a little bitterly. What was he expecting? A clone of Takahiro?

"This is Usagi, I mean, Usami Akihiko," Takahiro sat on the edge of the bed, smiling faintly. "You know I told you about Osaka - "

The boy - Misaki, wasn't it? - shook his head in exasperation. "Jeez, Nii-chan, I told you to just go! You don't have to worry about me, I'm in a hospital! There's lots of pretty nurses to look after me!"

"I know," he said, "but just in case I'm going to have Usagi check up on you every now and again. You can ask him for anything, okay?"

"I'll be fine," Misaki insisted.

Takahiro tightly clasped his little brother's hands in his own. "If an emergency happens, ring me immediately! I don't care what time it is, I'll fly back immediately!" he cried.

"Nii-chan!" the boy protested, shaking off his over-protective brother.

Akihiko watched and did not speak a word. He did not say anything when they walked in and he did not say anything when they left, yet he had the disturbing impression that the boy had been completely aware of him the whole time. It was slightly odd looking at the boy, swamped by his sheets, his eyes staring at his lap even though he seemed to know exactly what was going on around him.

His impression of the boy on the first day was that of a normal kid who lived in unfortunate circumstances. He doubted the kid would make stimulating conversation. Why could he never turn Takahiro down? He felt sorry for the kid, of course, but wasn't there someone more appropriate for babysitting?

When he returned to his apartment, he sighed and flung his coat over the couch. There was a message left on his house phone. It was from Aikawa probably. He pressed the button and, sure enough, her voice screeched at him.

"Usami! Where are you? Where have you been? Is the manuscript ready yet? I'm serious about this, you're in the red zone! If you don't cough up the goods, our agency is going to drop you so - "

He pressed the button again, deleting the message from his phone. Manuscript? He wanted to laugh. He did not even have a plot outlined for his next novel let alone an actual manuscript for it! Who was he kidding? He couldn't write anymore. What was there to write about?

Well, he thought, at least he could use the hospital as an excuse to hide.

XX

Three days later, Akihiko made his way to the hospital ward where Takahiro's little brother was staying. A promise was a promise after all and Aikawa was getting even more vocal about his deadlines.

He stopped and had a smoke outside before entering the hospital. If the nurses looked at him with disgust because he reeked of tobacco, so what? He had a thousand things to do but when he had tried to complete one of them everything had fallen apart miserably. At least he could walk into a hospital without a problem.

"Oh, Usagi-san," Misaki looked up the instant the door opened. He was sitting in his bed again, smothered in thin white sheets that were really too big for his bed. He looked like he was floating in a sea of white. A piece of moulding clay was clutched between his fingers. On the cabinet besides him, stood several child-like, wonky figures of cartoon animals; a rabbit, a panda, a duck, a bear.

"How did you know?" Akihiko tore his gaze from the cheerful statuettes to pull up a chair by Misaki's bedside.

"I recognised the sound of your footsteps," he smiled.

"You're…blind, aren't you?" It was a pointless question but he still found it hard to believe that the boy could tell when he arrived without seeing him.

"I lost my sight during the crash when I was riding with my parents," Misaki nodded.

"I heard from Takahiro," he frowned, gazing him over from head to toe. "You also lost the ability to walk."

"I have a wheelchair."

"That's not walking."

"Heh, I suppose not," he laughed apologetically. "You're an author, right Usagi-san? What do you write?"

Akihiko supposed that Misaki was not comfortable talking about his disability, if that quick change of topic was anything to go by. He thought he would be generous for once and not pursue it either.

"Anything that interests me really. I write BL on the side," he replied with a shrug.

Lately, things had just become worse and worse. Every time he tried to write, he ended up throwing pens across the room and breaking them. Aikawa had been serious about being dropped. He did not think the agency would keep him on for another week if he did not submit something soon.

"B - BL?" the boy stuttered.

"Is that a problem?" Akihiko cocked an eyebrow, which Misaki could not see but could probably sense the slight shift in his tone.

"Eh?! Uh, no…sorry," Misaki stuttered. Akihiko sighed. What was he doing taking out his frustration on an innocent kid? He just had to write something, right? It could not be that hard.

"I'll bring round one of my stories for you if you'd like. They have it on audio cassette so you can listen to it," he offered.

"It's not going to be a BL one, is it?"

"No, although I could - "

"No thank you!" Misaki said so sharply he wanted laugh. For a moment, he completely forgot about his deadlines and Aikawa's death threats.

"When will you be released?" he asked, shifting the conversation to a more cheerful one.

"Never," Misaki's reply told him that he had failed. This was not a more cheerful topic at all.

He opened his mouth to say something, he did not know what, his condolences maybe. He was never good at dealing with people, especially not sensitive subjects like this, it was out of his comfort zone.

Misaki probably picked up on his discomfort for he rushed in to fill the gaping silence that was left in his wake. "Ah, well, sometimes I get these attacks in my legs," he said casually, attempting to ease the atmosphere back into an amiable mood. "It's really random but it _really _hurts so it's better for me to stay here where there are doctors and nurses. I can't live by myself obviously and it's dangerous for me to go out alone."

"Of course it is! You could be hit by a car or lose control of your wheelchair or…" Akihiko trailed away. He could think of a lot of things that could befall an innocent kid if he went out alone. Not all of them were work-safe.

"Well, there are lots of other people here so it's not lonely!" Misaki laughed. Akihiko wondered if that sort of thing was funny.

"Misaki," he began, "don't you ever want to go outside?"

"I do go outside. There's a garden - "

"No, I mean, _outside_, outside," he said.

Misaki laughed again. It was becoming a little more strained each time, though he did an admirable job of trying to keep it covered. "That would be a bother to Nii-chan and the nurses. They wouldn't let me anyway."

He shifted his sightless gaze to the window. Akihiko followed it and found himself staring outside where the sun was gently filtering into the room.

They were on the third floor; he could see the tops of a few low-level houses from where he sat, though a large peach tree growing just outside the window obscured most of his view. It was in full bloom, the branches laden with blossom which fluttered across the window like snow. He wondered if Misaki realised that the blossoms were falling at all. He wondered if he could sense the same thing even without being able to see.

Yet when he glanced at the boy's face, it suddenly felt as if _he _was the one lacking one of his senses. A small smile played on his lips, one which Misaki was probably not even aware of himself. Akihiko found himself staring at that smile. What was he thinking about? What could he see which made him smile like that? What could he see which he could not even when he scrutinised the view.

"What does it feel like?"

"Eh?" Misaki turned back to him.

"Your other senses are more acute than the average person, right? It's intriguing. I think I might write a blind character in my next novel," he said half-jokingly.

He thought really he might write about a blind character. If he could write anymore. No, he was sure that he would be able to write again soon and there would be a boy in it who looked so out of place in a room full of whiteness and a peach tree which was always in bloom. Just a little more. If he just had a little bit more, he was sure that he could write.

"Ugh, it's not going to be based on me, is it?" Misaki instantly picked up on his thoughts.

"That depends on your answer," he replied teasingly.

"Ehh?" Misaki looked as though he had been cheated. "Uh, well, since I wasn't always blind I can still imagine what things look like. It's spring so the trees are all in bloom, right? And the sunlight is pale yellow, the shadows are grey. Spring feels really warm, eh, well, of course it does, the sun is shining!" he chuckled nervously. "It smells like flowers and freshly cut grass…that's an obvious answer too, isn't it?"

Akhiko smiled. He did not know at what point in time since he had stepped into the room that he had begun to feel comfortable around the boy, but it was quite cute to see him so flustered.

"If I have to liken it to music though…it would be a happy piano," Misaki replied thoughtfully.

"A happy piano?" Akihiko lifted a hand to stifle a small chuckle.

"Don't laugh!" Misaki cried, reddening even more. "I mean, Spring is like someone playing a happy song on the piano! Winter is a crisp sounding flute, autumn is the cello, maybe the violin too, and summer is…um, a full blown orchestra! Why are you still laughing!?" he yelled as Akihiko's chuckles turned into full fledged laughter.

"No, that was very helpful," he waved him away, drawing back his composure.

"You didn't have to laugh," Misaki muttered sourly.

Akihiko's expression softened as he watched him pout and blush. Misaki did not look anything like Takahiro, he did not act like his brother either, he was sort of like Suzuki-san. Maybe he should introduce them.

It was such a shame that Misaki had hardly ever left the hospital grounds. That thought suddenly sobered him as he imagined what it must be like to be cooped up in a foul-smelling hospital where the food was bad and there was nothing to do except mould badly shaped clay figurines. He would have died of boredom.

"…Misaki."

"W - what?" he asked, startled.

"Don't you want to go outside?"

Misaki stared at his lap. "What are you saying, Usagi-san? Are you going to take me outside?" his nervous laughter quickly gave way to a much more sombre tone. "Thank you, but you…you'll probably regret it if you do."

It made him want to take him outside even more.

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	2. Fortepiano

A big thank you to all those who reviewed. Sorry for the lateness of this update, it doesn't usually take me so long but I guess I'm at a busy stage in life.

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**Walking amongst the butterflies**

**- Fortepiano -**

XX

There were three letters stuffed into his mailbox with the morning paper when Akihiko finally decided to rise and make himself breakfast. He used the term 'make' loosely since his breakfast usually consisted of something ready made that he could heat in the microwave.

He threw aside the letters - he would look at them later - and opened the newspaper to the reviews page. There was a small column in the corner for the book reviews, his eyes narrowed as he spotted the title of his latest work squashed into the section.

'_Usami Akihiko debuted as a novelist with 'Red snow' a magnificent, engaging…'_

He briefly skimmed over the introduction. He knew his own career. His eyes, however, stopped and he began reading even closer as the article shifted its tone.

'_However,' _it read, _'As of late, Usami's works have lost that spark which made his earlier novels so memorable and his latest book, 'Season's solace' is no exception. The prose is stale and uninspiring, the characters move like wooden puppets to the sound of what can only be described as a oncoming train wreck, their motives as shallow as their personalities. One must ask the question; is this the extent of Usami's ability as a novelist? Is this - '_

He folded the newspaper and threw it onto the couch next to Suzuki-san. Drawing a cigarette from his pocket, he slowly lit the end and took a long drag.

He supposed it was true. His latest work had been something that had been forced out of him, something he had made himself write rather then letting the words come to him naturally as they usually did. Even he had thought that novel had not been his best when he had submitted it, and when he compared it to his earlier works it really did seem terrible.

Why could he not write anymore? He could do better so why were the words not coming? Why was even the simplest sentence so hard to compose?

"Takahiro…"

No, that was not right. He was not finished as a novelist, not yet. There was still something that could inspire him. He just needed a little more. Just a little bit more and he could overcome his block.

"…Misaki."

Slinging on his coat, he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. It was time to visit the hospital again.

XX

Misaki recognised his footsteps the moment he stepped into the room. His fingers were slightly stained with moulding clay. There were more animals on the cabinet at his bedside; a lion and a slightly lopsided fox. If Akihiko did not know better, he would have thought that he was trying to make his own personal zoo.

He looked up and smiled as a chair was pulled besides his bed. Akihiko took a seat, watching Misaki's fingers shape another lump of clay.

Perhaps it was the white curtains or the thin sheets, perhaps it was the fact that the entire room seemed as though it could be swallowed up by the light streaming in at any moment, but it always seemed so surreal when he entered. It was almost as if he was stepping into another world every time; a small, simple world far removed from all the troubles of normal life.

Yet sometimes it made him restless. The gleaming surfaces were too artificial, the air smelt too much like medicine, and room appeared to have had the colour bleached out of its walls. He propped an elbow onto the cabinet and wondered if the nurses thought that any colour but white could lead to infection.

"Have you thought about what I asked you?" he asked.

Misaki's fingers suddenly stopped and he set down the lump of clay on top of his lap. "I did but…"

"It's okay. If you want to go, then say you want to go. I'll work everything else out," he assured him.

"It's okay, you don't have to!" Misaki waved a dismissive hand in the air.

Akihiko sighed. "Misaki."

"What?"

He thought that the boy probably sensed the finger he was pointing right at him as Misaki leaned back a little in response to him leaning forward. "Do you want to go or not? Don't lie to me!" he said sternly.

Misaki shifted nervously, lowing his head. "…I want to go but - "

"Then it's settled!" he announced.

"Ehhh? Just like that?"

Reaching out a hand, he ruffled the boy's hair. "I told you, didn't I? I'll take care of things," he promised.

XX

The nurse at the information desk was unamused. She wore thick glasses that only magnified the hard look in her eyes, her thin pink lips pulled into a disapproving frown.

"I'm very sorry Usami-san but unless you are his family or his legal guardian we cannot release him to you," she said tersely.

Akihiko pressed his hand upon her desk. "I can take care of Misaki just fine! I'm close to his big brother, can't you - "

"I'm sorry, Usami-san," the nurse said curtly. "You're not his legal guardian."

From her tone of voice, he knew that there would be no room for discussion. Drawing back, he ran a hand through his hair, sighing. There was a saying he had heard once; desperate times call for desperate measures. He supposed that this was such a time.

XX

The one thought in Akihiko's mind as he returned to Misaki's room with a black wheelchair in tow was that the hospital really should have locked up their storerooms. He knocked once and did not wait for an answer before allowing himself in. Misaki was in bed as usual, though he had washed his hands of the clay and looked as though he had been dozing off.

"Misaki, are you ready?"

"Eh? You got the doctor's permission, Usagi-san?" he asked, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.

Akihiko brought the wheelchair just in front of the bed. "It's fine," he shrugged, "I told you that I would take care of it."

"You know, the garden really is just fine."

"The world is a big place. Why not experience a little of it? Don't worry, I'll be with you. I'll make sure you'll be okay," he assured him.

Reluctantly, Misaki nodded and held out his arms for Akihiko to lift him out of bed, though the thought of being carried like a child made him pout.

Smiling at his small victory, Akihiko took his time in scooping him up and transferring him into the wheelchair. He was not really surprised by how light Misaki seemed to him, but as he picked him up, his legs dangled uselessly to the floor; a reminder of all that the car crash had taken away.

Once deposited in the wheelchair, Akihiko grabbed hold of the handles and steered him out of the room.

Misaki leaned back and allowed himself to be pushed through the hallways. As soon as he was out of his room, everything seemed so busy. The phones were ringing, the doctors and nurses were chatting as they walked, he could hear the sound of footsteps and crutches and trolley tyres bombarding his ears. He closed his eyes and sunk into his chair, inhaling deeply. He liked the noise; it was the hum of a normal life.

The sound of the wheelchair's rubber wheels began squeaking even louder against the linoleum. Misaki opened his eyes curiously.

"Usagi-san, is it just me or have you started walking quite fast?" When there was no answer, he twisted around a little, eyes growing wide as he realised that he could feel the wind hitting his face a lot harder than before. "Usagi-san? Usagi-san? A - are you speeding up?!"

"Don't speak, Misaki! They'll catch us!" Akihiko whispered and increased his pace.

Misaki swivelled on his chair, his head turning this way and that as if he could better hear what was happening if he got into the right position.

"Catch us? Who? Wh - what are you doing Usagi-san?"

"Don't worry, I'll take care of everything!" he assured him as he pushed the wheelchair out of the hospital. The key was to look as if he knew exactly what he was doing, which was true in a way. If he did not draw attention to himself, people's eyes simply skimmed over him. They simply assumed that he was not doing anything wrong.

"You didn't get permission did you?" Misaki hissed accusingly. "This is a kidnap! I'm being kidnapped!"

They made it off of the hospital grounds and successfully turned on to another street. "It's voluntary kidnapping so don't complain!" Akihiko continued to march down the sidewalk at the same relentless pace.

"What's voluntary about it? You tricked me!" Misaki cried, clutching onto the arm rests of his wheelchair as Akihiko began to run.

XX

By the time they finally stopped the hospital was out of sight, hidden behind a congregation of trees and bushes and all sorts of flora and fungi. The fields were open seas of green, dotted with trees along the cement paths and wooden benches protected by painted blue and white shelters. It was almost completely silent, not a single soul could be heard over the wind lightly brushing through the trees.

"Where are we?" Misaki asked, sniffing the air.

"Hidaira park," he replied.

"Oh."

"Is something wrong?"

Misaki shook his head, stretching his arms above his head as if trying to catch the sky. His fingers splayed like a fan in front of the sun, smiling at its warmth.

"The sky feels so big here," he closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the wind stirring the trees, mapping out the feel of his surroundings. He drew a deep breath, inhaling all the different scents around him; the smell of pine wood and flowers, of slightly wet grass and the warm scent the sun on gravel.

Akihiko watched him, fascinated. The sun treated him gently, casting a gentle light over his lids, softly caressing his face. The wind too, only lightly brushed his brown hair aside. It was as though he were a butterfly and nature was taking extra care not to break him.

Suddenly, Misaki's eyes snapped open. "Ah, a bird!" he turned his head to the boughs of a nearby tree. Akihiko moved his gaze accordingly. A magpie had landed upon a branch and was busy preening its feathers. He remembered, when he had been growing up in England, what the people would always say when they saw a magpie.

_One for sorrow _

He searched for another but he could not even spot another bird let alone another magpie. However, when his gaze returned to Misaki, he noticed the boy smiling at it and he believed that there was no way something that Misaki could look at so gently could possibly bring bad luck.

He wondered how he could be so cheerful? Losing one's parents at such a young age was bad enough but his sight as well? His ability walk? His hope of ever leading a normal life? Yet he could smile when he heard the sound of a bird's wings beating the air and marvel at how big the sky felt. How did he do it? Why had he not fallen into bitterness yet? Why did he not hate the people who could live such carefree lives?

It was baffling.

"You're incredible," Akhiko murmured.

"Eh?" Misaki's sharp ears naturally heard him and turned his sightless eyes to him questioningly.

"I've never met anyone quite like you."

"Ehh? Jeez, don't tease me like that, Usagi-san! I know you're lying!" he softly hit his arm with the back of his hand.

"I'm not," Akihiko insisted, smiling lightly.

Misaki reddened but remained defensive. "Of course you're lying! Usagi-san is a liar and a pervert and is childish and stubborn and has a twisted sense of humour!" he cried.

"…Oh, you're pretty sharp."

"Don't admit to it just like that!" he snapped.

Akihiko chuckled. "Well, I wasn't lying when I said that you were incredible. I can't even imagine what it must be like to not be able to see or walk."

He decided that, when he returned to his apartment, he would start laying out a plot for a novel with a blind person as its main character. Five seconds later, Akihiko also decided that he did not really want to return to his apartment alone, though he knew that there was no way he could possibly take Misaki with him.

"It's not so bad," Misaki shrugged. "At least I'm not deaf as well. That would be really terrible since I rely on my sense of hearing the most. If I was deaf I would only have three senses and that would be…" he trailed away, laughing a little.

"That would be?" Akihiko prompted him.

"That would be bad. It's hard to distinguish smells in the city and I'd feel like a dog!" he pulled a sour face. "Touch isn't bad but it would give me trouble trying to perceive things that are far away from me and taste…well, I don't want to be putting strange things in my mouth!" he shuddered at the thought.

"Why not?" Akihiko teased. "It might be fun."

"What's so fun about that?" he bristled.

Placing a heavy hand on his shoulder, Akihiko leaned on him slightly, just enough for Misaki to feel his fingers through the cotton of his shirt, and hunched over until his lips were level with the boy's ear. "You might like it. Discovering things through your mouth," he whispered.

"U - Usagi-san?" Misaki recoiled a little as he felt Akihiko's breath ticking his lobe.

Just a little more. He could write again with a little more inspiration.

His large hands cupped the side of Misaki's face, a finger tracing the boy's jaw line.

It seemed, without him realising, he had been caught. He was drawn to him, this blind boy who could not walk. This cheerful kid who was the little brother of his first love, this strangely naïve person who spent most of his days alone in a room full of white with a daffodil and a collection of clay figurines.

What a lousy cheater.

"Usagi-san," Misaki gripped his wrist, removing the hand from his shoulder. "Usagi-san, I think we should go back. The nurses will be worried if I disappear for too long."

Slowly, Akihiko straightened, sighing a little but smiling despite himself. "Alright then," he ruffled Misaki's hair. "Let's go back and have a drink."

XX

The newspaper he had read that morning was still on the couch when he returned. It stared at him mockingly, daring him to pick it up and throw it away. Out of spite, he tossed into a plastic bag with the rest of the combustible trash, however, the letters, which he had left on the table that morning, still stared at him. He picked the first one up and turned it over. It was from his agency.

Akihiko paused for a moment, remembering that he had never actually given Misaki one of his stories as he had promised. He wondered what kind he would like. One of his earlier works, his earlier ones were the best, but they were so sad. He would like to write something with a happy ending for once.

_One for sorrow._

There probably should not be any magpies in his story.

Wriggling a finger under the flap, he tore the top off of the sealed envelope and flipped the letter open.

_Usami Akihiko,_

_We regret to inform you that you have been dropped from our list of authors in our agency. Kikukawa Literary agency believes that it is unable to represent you and your work at this point in time and asks that you please understand this decision. We wish you good luck in your future endeavours and hope that you will continue to pursue a literary career. For more information or to speak with a representative of Kikukawa Literary agency, please contact - _

Those words hit him like a ton of bricks. He scrunched the letter up and threw it into the nearest bin.

Just a little more. All he had needed was a little more.

* * *

XX


	3. Arioso Cantabile

Hello again and thank you to everyone who reviewed. The story is starting to move about now. I hope you all enjoy it!

* * *

**Walking amongst the butterflies**

**- Arioso Cantabile -**

XX

Misaki was still working on his clay models when Akihiko slid open the door and dumped himself into a nearby chair. A small CD player had replaced the daffodil on his besides cabinet, it was playing something instrumental; soft music was trickling out of the speakers in a pathetic whisper, though to Misaki's ears it probably sounded just fine.

His fingers stopped the moment Akihiko sat down. Turning his gaze in his direction, Misaki frowned and cocked his head to one side.

"Usagi-san? What's wrong? Did something happen?" he asked, quickly picking up on the slight tenseness coming from around the chair.

"It's nothing," Akihiko quickly reassured him. Honestly, he wondered how he could be so easily read. It seemed Misaki picked up on every slight change in feeling that shifted through him.

He did not want to tell him that he had been dropped by his agency; it would simply be a needless worry for Misaki to shoulder. He could not blame the agency though, his last works had been terrible after all, but it was by no means the end for him. He was not finished writing just yet. He had something he lacked before. He had inspiration.

A smile threatened his lips at this thought as he watched Misaki slowly thumbing the skin of a clay deer to smoothness. With fingers poised like a pianist about to play the first notes, all the other animals had been amassed around the bedside as if they were performing to Saint-Saens' Carnival of the animals.

Before Misaki could press any more answers out of him, he quickly steered the conversation towards something a little more pleasant. He strained his ears to identify the sound seeping from the CD player - he supposed it was borrowed from the hospital - but he eventually gave up and adjusted the volume.

"Is that…classical?" Akihiko asked, baffled. The flowing sound of a piano and the long trills of violins were the last thing he expected someone like Misaki to listen to.

"Don't you like it?" Misaki asked.

"I like it…but I didn't think _you _would. It doesn't suit your image," he confessed.

Misaki laughed a little. He probably thought the same thing as well.

"To tell the truth, I don't really like it much but the hospital only has classical CDs so I'm pretty stuck if I want something to listen to," he shrugged and turned the volume up a notch for Akihiko. "I heard that one of the doctors is really passionate about what the hospital has on its shelves. He says that the only real kind of music is classical, the rest is just a bunch of nonsense and noise," Miskai pulled a face at this. He obviously disagreed.

Akihiko could not resist the temptation to ruffle the boy's hair. It was his fault really, for making such cute faces. "If you want, I'll buy you some CDs. I don't really know what kids are into these days though," he admitted.

"Ah, it's okay! You don't have to do anything like that," Misaki batted his hand away, rearranging his now untidy hair.

"Don't worry, I'll buy you something."

"Don't waste your money!"

"It's not wasting it, I'm buying you a present. That's a good cause, isn't it?" Akihiko smiled teasingly.

"But I like classical just fine!" Misaki continued to protest. In a last ditch attempt, his fingers groped for the CD case on his cabinet and held it up, smiling. "See? Ah, Vivaldi sure is great, isn't he? I love his cello pieces!" He was a bad liar.

Akihiko tilted his head up to listen. "Misaki," he said slowly as he strained to identify the sound coming from the speakers. "That's not Vivaldi. That's Brahms."

Misaki looked the way he must have when he first learnt that Santa Claus was not real. "Ehh? It isn't? But it sounds the same to me!" he turned the volume up even more and listened carefully to the violins drawing out their E flats.

"How can someone with ears as good as yours get mixed up between Vivaldi and Brahms?" Akihiko asked incredulously.

"But they really do sound the same," Misaki muttered, toying with his model. "I don't know, all classical music sounds like one big mesh of instruments to me."

"Maybe it's because there are lots of different composers that you get mixed up," Akihiko murmured to himself. Taking the CD from Misaki's clay-stained hands, he turned it over, quickly scanning the list of names and pieces on the back cover. "I'll buy you CDs with individual composers on them next time so you can learn to tell the difference," he offered. "How do you like Bach?"

Misaki frowned. "If he's who I think he is then he's fine. You really don't have to though."

"But I want to. Mozart?" he insisted, reeling off all the names of famous composers that had been force fed to him in his days of private tutoring.

"You should save your money!" Misaki looked at him disapprovingly, as though wishing he could force the importance of saving one's earnings on to him.

"I have plenty of money. Tchaikovsky?"

"I don't know him! Anyway, the CDs here are _more _than enough."

Akihiko shrugged. Even without work, money was no real issue to him. "I'll just add to the collection then. Beethoven?"

Misaki's frown only deepened. "…No, not him," he sank further into his white sheets, abandoning his model on his lap to pull the linen up to his chin. "I _hate _him."

The answer shocked him somewhat. Akihiko opened his mouth to ask why but before he could form the question properly the door was hurled open and a young, thin nurse marched in. Strands of hair fell across her forehead in disarray from underneath her nurse's hat. Her lips, lined with rouge, were tightly pursed in a frown.

"Ah, Usami-san!" the nurse scowled. "You have some nerve, Usami-san! You're lucky that Kusama-sensei told us to wait instead of calling the police straight away!" she continued to berate him. Akihiko opened his mouth to protest but the woman was not letting him get a word in.

"It's okay, Mika-san, let me handle this," a doctor put his hand on her shoulder.

"Ah, K - Kusama-sensei!" the nurse jumped. Under the doctor's assurances, she quickly retreated, shooting one last glare at Akihiko.

Kusama-sensei always drew stares whenever he entered a room, probably attributed to his height. He nodded once to Misaki and again in Akihiko's direction. "Long time no see, Usami-san," he bowed politely.

Akihiko cocked his head to one side, watching the doctor thoughtfully. The man was amazingly tall for his age, with unusually dark blue eyes that lit up kindly when he smiled, yet did not lose an inch of its intensity. He looked oddly familiar.

"Ah, I think I recognise you…somewhere…" Akihiko trailed away, vaguely scanning his memory for a reminder of where he had seen the tall doctor.

"Err, no…it's okay if you don't," he smiled awkwardly.

"Oh, you were that brat that was around Hiroki's place!"

Misaki barely suppressed a groan at such bluntness.

"Uh…yes, I suppose you could say that was me. Kusama Nowaki," the doctor held out his hand. His touch was warm.

"Kusama-sensei, are you here for my check-up?" Misaki asked swiftly, quickly covering up for Akihiko.

"Tomorrow," he promised, then turning to Akihiko said; "Actually, I wanted to talk to you, Usami-san."

"Me?"

Nowaki smiled knowingly. "You marched up to the counter and said that you wanted to take Misaki-kun away, didn't you?"

"Y - You said it like that? That's so embarrassing!" Misaki crawled out from under the sheets to lament over his current caretaker's lack of common sense, his cheeks burning red.

Nowaki nodded calmly. "The nurse misunderstood and thought that you wanted to take him away permanently to live with you," he said much to Misaki further chagrin.

"Can I?" Akihiko looked up hopefully.

"Usagi-san!"

"If it was just a day trip, the hospital organises things like that every so often. Misaki-kun, however, doesn't really go," Nowaki said, his eyes glancing over Misaki's bed where the boy began fiddling with his clay models again.

"Ah, well it costs money, doesn't it? I don't want to ask Nii-chan for something like that and besides they always go to an art exhibit or the theatre," he shrugged as if this was of no consequence to him.

"I'll ask them to run trips which are more accommodating to our disabled patients," Nowaki smiled supportively.

"No, it's okay if you don't," Misaki waved his hands, and the half-finished figure of a deer, about the air.

Nowaki nodded swiftly and returned his attention to Akihiko once more.

"If you would rather, you can take Misaki outside by yourself as long as there's a doctor of nurse who agrees to accompany you. It'll be difficult, but I could try to arrange something like that for you," he put a hand to his chin thoughtfully, frowning. In such a pose he seemed less like that that serious teenager Akihiko had seen when they first crossed path's at Hiroki's apartment and more like an overgrown child. Even so, he was not satisfied by these conditions.

"That's not by myself," he frowned sourly. For some reason, the thought of sharing Misaki's company did not agree with him at all.

Nowaki shook his head with a sigh. "Please understand Misaki's condition. If he has another attack, it's important that there is someone with medical knowledge on standby."

"So if you come with us, Kusama-sensei, then it'll be okay, right?" Misaki smiled, a little too cheerful and enthusiastic for Akihiko's liking.

"If that's what you want," he nodded. "Ah, but I'd have to do it when I'm not on one of my shifts and I'd have to ask my superiors about it first though."

Akihiko frowned. However, as Misaki seemed quite excited about the prospect, he could only agree to the arrangement.

XX

Nowaki moved fast. Apparently, he had much of the more important working staff charmed by his earnestness and diligence and, by the middle of the week, had successfully wheedled permission to take Misaki on a private trip. Under his supervision of course.

Akihiko could have thought of more romantic, much more intimate ways to spend time with the boy but he was somewhat glad to be taking Misaki outside again. He wheeled him to the front parking lot where his red sports car was currently situated, standing like a jewel in the rough amongst all the other, modest Beetles and mass produced Toyotas. Misaki suddenly seemed much more attentive to the smell of petrol and his head suddenly perked up when the car door was opened.

"A car?" he picked at his jeans. "Can't we take public transport instead?"

"That's inconvenient for you, isn't it? A car would be faster," Akihiko said, lighting up a cigarette. Nowaki remained silent and let the two of them settle their travelling arrangements.

Misaki began rubbing the butt of his palms up and down his thighs in a slightly agitated fashion. "Ah, well, I don't really like cars much. Can't we go by bus?" he asked.

Though he posed the question casually, it barely concealed the nervousness in his voice. Of course, Akihiko reasoned, there was no way Misaki would feel comfortable in a car after experiencing such an awful crash, and he felt a little guilty that he had not realised it sooner.

Following Nowaki's directions, by midday they found themselves inside an enclosed park, the vegetation grew thick and lush like something out of a tropical garden, the leaves were broad and dark blades of green. Bay trees reached towards a domed ceiling made of glass, the floor was covered in sand, wooden benches dotted here and there.

"A butterfly park, huh?" Akihiko murmured, glancing around at the brightly coloured wings fluttering about. The park was fairly crowded, mostly filled with children and high school girls.

"Is that no good? The high school girls at the flower shop where I work were all talking about it," Nowaki sat on one of the benches next to Akihiko.

"Well, if Misaki likes it…" he trailed away, his gaze quickly finding Misaki amongst the butterflies. He was wheeling himself around the park, making sure not to wander too far yet entranced by the butterflies. Akihiko could only imagine what it must be like to be unable to see the swarm of coloured wings fluttering through the air. Could Misaki see it in his mind? Could he hear every slight beat of fragile wings, feel them brush against his skin and freeze with pleasure?

The sight took his breath away.

Somewhere in his mind, he filtered out all the other visitors mulling around in the background, he even blocked out Nowaki's presence from his mind. There was only Misaki, the butterflies and him, watching like a silent spectator from behind rose-tinted glass.

The butterflies fluttered across Misaki's skin, retreating nervously before descending upon his fingertips in a cloud of coloured wings. Most were imported from the tropics, each one spanning the length of his hand. Canary yellow, royal red, white alabaster, indigo blue; a thousand colours danced around him and his wheelchair in a rainbow whirlwind. It was such a contrast from his normally white world of linen sheets and white washed walls and disinfectant.

Then Nowaki had to speak and shake Akihiko from his private world.

"Usami-san, how is work?" he suddenly asked.

"The usual," Akihiko shrugged, a little annoyed to have his viewing interrupted.

Nowaki turned his gaze towards Misaki as well, watching him with a contemplative expression. However, when he spoke next, his question had nothing to do with Misaki at all.

"You were dropped by your literary agency, weren't you?"

"So? I can always find another one," he shrugged again.

Nowaki sighed a little, just enough to be barely audible to those around him. "Hiro-san was really upset to read that review by Sakuma-san. You know, the one in that newspaper?"

"It's great to have such adoring fans," he muttered.

"Hiro-san was really angry about how harshly Sakuma-san criticised you," Nowaki continued, ignoring Akihiko's comments, "but I think what made him the most angry was that he also agreed with some of his points. It was like, he couldn't forgive himself for not loving one of your works. What happened to your writing, Usami-san?"

Akihiko did not answer him. He knew exactly what had happened to his writing. Stale. Uninspiring. Weren't those the words everyone chose when describing his work? However, it was different now. He had inspiration now. He would write the best damn novel he had ever written or would ever write again.

It should have a happy ending, he decided. If he was going to base the main character on Misaki, he wanted to give it a happy ending. He had never written a happy story before, the characters all seemed to end so tragically, but this time he would write a happy ending for Misaki. Even in the bleakest of times, there would be a constant ray of hope, just as Misaki seemed able to smile even now.

As if he realised that he was the subject of such scrutiny, Misaki wheeled himself over to the bench where they sat. He stopped and rubbed his palms against his legs.

"U - Usagi-san, I feel a little tired," he smiled apologetically.

"Would you like to head back then? It's almost time for me to start work anyway," Nowaki asked, rising to his feet.

The park was getting even more crowded. A phone suddenly began ringing near their bench and a girl with a stack of musical scores shoved them under her arm and began fishing for it. She took one glance at the display, wrinkled her nose in disgust, muttered; "it's from my boyfriend" and threw it back in to keep playing on in vain.

Misaki nodded. Perhaps all the sounds were proving to be too much for him. Akihiko grabbed the handle bars of his wheelchair and steered him around towards the exit of the park. Misaki bowed his head, mutely allowing him to take control.

However, Akhiko had not taken more than two steps before he realised that Misaki's hands were grabbing fistfuls of his jeans a little harder than usual. He leaned over, worried, as Nowaki knelt besides the chair and forced Misaki's chin up.

"Misaki-kun?"

Misaki's eyes were squeezed shut, teeth gritted and face contorted in pain. He hissed and fell forward, doubling over himself. His hands began rubbing against his thighs at an almost frantic pace, his palms turning red under the heat of the friction.

"Misaki, what's wrong?" Akihiko cried, alarmed by this sudden change.

"Ugh, my - my legs!" he barely managed to hiss through his gritted teeth. His body quivered and trembled and he pressed his head against his knees,.

"Misaki?" Akihiko tentatively shook the boy's shoulder but he refused to rise. His breath hitched in his throat. "Misaki!"

* * *

A full explanation of Misaki's condition will be given in later chapters, along with an explanation as to why Misaki hasn't left the hospital since the crash. I did my research so it doesn't come off too contrived. At least, I hope it doesn't. Please look forward to it!


	4. Con amore

Sorry for the long wait and a big thank you to everyone who revieiwed!

* * *

**Walking amongst the butterflies**

**- Con Amore- **

XX

Akihiko was in the foulest mood when the sound of the phone ringing woke him from his sleep. He had planned to stay in bed until midday and this interruption was screwing up his carefully laid plans.

He stumbled his way down the stairs, batting away the memories of yesterday that were already trying to bombard their way into him.

Misaki had been rushed back as quickly as possible, Kusama-sensei holding an asthma pump to help him breathe and urging him to calm down the whole way whilst Akihiko was left to wallow in the frustration of being unable to do anything.

His fists clenched at the very thought of his helplessness. He was supposed to help Misaki and yet there had been nothing he could do except listen to Misaki's cries and hold his hand until the dugs took their toll on him and he fell asleep.

"It was very fortunate that it was only a mild attack," the doctor had said. If that was a mild attack, he never wanted to see what a serious one looked like.

"Akihiko," a voice crackled down the line. It was _that man _again. He thought he would hang up right there and then but Haruhiko spoke quickly. "Don't get me wrong. I'm only calling you because father coerced me into it," he said callously, tempting Akihiko to pull out the plug.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

"I heard you were dropped by your agency," Haruhiko's harsh voice sounded so bleak through the phone line. "You've got no excuse now. Why don't you just come home and do what you're supposed to?"

"I'm sorry, but even if I'm not with any agency right now I'm still writing. Besides, I have other obligations to attend to," Akihiko replied, keeping things as curt and formal as possible. He did not want a shred of intimacy with _that_ man.

"Oh, I heard about that too. A grown man who can hardly look after himself is trying to look after a blind boy in a wheelchair? Don't - "

He hung up before Haruhiko could finish, pulling the phone cord out of the socket for good measure. His brother railing at him to come home was the least of his worries.

XX

When Akihiko slipped into Misaki's room, he was lying, perfectly still, in bed with his arms by his side and his sheets pulled all the way to his chest.

However, as he approached, he saw that Misaki's eyes were wide open, staring blankly at the alabaster ceiling. Slowly, Misaki turned his head towards him and pulled himself up into a sitting position.

"How are you feeling?" Akihiko asked softly, as though the pressure of his words would be too much to handle.

"Okay, I guess. Sorry for scaring you," Misaki smiled. Even after that attack had almost scared the life out of him, Misaki was still smiling and cheerful, though perhaps a little less perky than usual.

"Idiot. Don't apologize for something like that," he ruffled the boy's hair affectionately.

A hand batted him away. Misaki frowned and tried to rearrange his hair, which began sticking out at odd angles as his fingers worked through the knots. Giving up, his hand fell onto his lap, occasionally twitching a little with restlessness.

"Uh, Usagi-san…actually, it's nothing," he suddenly looked away sharply .

"What is it?" Akihiko prompted, his curiosity had already been piqued just by the tone of Misaki's voice. There was no way he would let go without discovering what he wanted. "I promise not to laugh," he added, as if that was some comfort.

Misaki's head bowed with embarrassment. His hand shifted towards Akihiko then suddenly retracted as though he were attempting to pet a cat, which he was not sure was quite tame or not. "C - Can I…touch you?" he stuttered, his cheeks burning red.

"Sure," Akihiko nodded, bewildered. Misaki wanted to touch him? Misaki was instigating this contact? All sorts of inappropriate things ran through his head.

He leaned over and, slowly, Misaki's trembling fingertips fluttered over his cheeks. He pressed lightly, as if he were handling a butterfly, running the points of his fingers along the line of Akihiko's jaw, the bridge of his nose, thumbs brushing over closed eyelids, sweeping over the forehead.

Akihiko closed his eyes and tried not to breathe. He had no idea that just a mere touch could turn him on this much. Fingers touched his ears and trailed down, convening as they came to his neck and glided apart along his collar bone.

Eventually, Miskai's hands returned to his lap and Akihiko opened his eyes, slightly disappointed.

"It's just like a I thought," Misaki murmured.

"Huh?"

"You're a pervert!" he suddenly cried accusingly. "You thought I was going to do weird things to you, didn't you?"

He did not want to tell him that he had hit the nail squarely on the head.

"Ever since Nii-chan brought you to see me, I wanted to know what you looked like. I think I have a good picture now," he explained. His hands found Akihiko's and examined his fingers as if they were the most interesting hands he had ever felt. "You have big hands, Usagi-san," he murmured.

"Then I can touch more of Misaki!"

"L - Let go! Pervy old man!" he stuttered as Akihiko wrapped an arm around him.

"Impudent brat," he countered teasingly. However, his good humour was short-lived. Haruhiko's words and the memory of yesterday's incident kept invading his mind, every time he tried to push them out they would return tenfold.

"Misaki," he said, unsure of how to approach him over such a sensitive subject. "About the car crash…what really happened?"

Misaki's smile suddenly disappeared. It made Akihiko feel wretched for asking. "I don't remember," he slid into the protective swathe of his blankets. "The doctors said that my mind probably shut out all the memories or something. I don't really remember what happened."

"I see," he replied glumly, thinking about the crash and Takahiro who was away in Osaka at the moment and callous literary agencies that dropped failing authors like hot potatoes.

"U - Usagi-san?" Misaki reached out a hand and found his bowed head. He clumsily patted it like a toddler stroking a dog. "Are you okay, Usagi-san?"

"I'm fine," he replied, taking Misaki's hand in his own. His own cool hands warmed at the touch of Misaki's warm fingers.

Misaki frowned, unconvinced, and stole his hand back from Usagi's grip. "But your voice is a little strained. No, you don't feel okay to me," he said worriedly.

A guy who couldn't take care of himself looking after a kid. What a joke. He knew that was what Haruhiko was thinking. Stupid brother, what did he know about him? About anything for that matter.

"It's okay, if anything's wrong, you can come here any time you want," Misaki patted his hand, if a little awkwardly.

Akihiko's expression softened at this clumsy attempt to console him. He was being comforted by a kid who should, in all right, be the one deserving all the comfort. Oh how Haruhiko would have a field day if he knew.

"I don't want to come to your cage. I want to take you out of here not trap myself in as well," he muttered, eyeing the sheets rippled around Misaki's lap.

"But I already go outside," Misaki protested.

"Outside?" Akihiko echoed. "To the park a few streets away? To the butterfly exhibit that's only thirty minute's drive from here? That's not outside."

"Then what is outside to you, Usagi-san?" he asked, slightly angry that nothing seemed to please the man.

Akihiko remained silent and thoughtful for a moment. "Somewhere where you can breathe."

Misaki frowned in frustration. "I can _breathe _just fine here!" he cried. "_You__'__re_ the one who's suffocating! Why are you so restless?" he demanded, his cheeks beginning to burn.

That was a good question? Why was he restless? Because his fingers wouldn't write the words he wanted when he tried to? Because everyone was telling him to give up and move on? Because he had not been able to do a thing for Misaki other than sit by him and keep him company? Was that why?

Seeing Misaki irritable for the first time should have made him feel more guilty than he had ever felt before but frustration was contagious and he only ended up saying snappishly; "So you have no dreams? You'll just stay here in this hospital forever until you die?"

The boy winced but remained undaunted. "Of course I have dreams!" he pressed on angrily. "But that's not the point! When I was a kid, I didn't have any special talents and now that I can't see and I can't walk no one's going to employ someone like me. I can't get a job, I can't go to university, I can't do anything! There's nothing for me to do except stay here!"

"And you say _I__'__m_ suffocating," he retorted.

Misaki turned his head away. A fierce wind was whipping the tree outside, white blossom rushed past the window in a whirlwind as the branches clawed against the window. The sound of the wind creaked to cover the stifling silence that blanketed the room.

"It's this city," Misaki finally spoke, softly, barely audible over the wind. "There are so many people in it and the buildings rise all the way up into the sky as if they want to trap you in. When it rains, the clouds smother you and when it's hot the air is too thick. It's this city."

Akihiko focused his gaze on the back of his head. He was only slightly aware that he was leaning closer and closer to him inch by inch.

"Misaki," he called but Misaki remained with his head turned toward the window in contemplative silence.

He understood well, however, that feeling of separation from the city and all those _normal_ people who inhabited it. Kept in a hospital for most of his life, the world outside was a distant place that he was not a part of. He understood it well. His voluntary reclusiveness and Misaki's involuntary one.

"Misaki, you're very special."

This at least made the boy snap back to his usual self, turning back to Akihiko as though he had been pinched.

"Don't say things like that so casually! I can tell when you're lying!" he cried, though he was blushing furiously as he always did when he did not know what to do with a compliment.

A small, knowing smile spread across Akihiko's lips. "Then you should also be able to tell when I'm speaking the truth. You're special," he calmly insisted.

Sliding a hand lightly over Misaki's fingers, he was glad when the boy did not recoil or move his hand away. He touched him as Misaki had touched his face; as though he were handling something very fragile and precious.

"Misaki, I'll take you outside. Not outside for a day, not just out somewhere nearby. I'll take you outside, to somewhere where you can breathe," he promised.

He had made countless promises in the past, promises that he had forgotten about, promises he had broken, promises he did not want to keep, promises he could not keep no matter how hard he tried to, but this time, even if it was just this one promise, he would not break this one.

"U…sagi?" Misaki stuttered, embarrassed and perhaps slightly unnerved by his sudden seriousness. A light blush brushed over his cheeks.

Akihiko frowned. He reached out a hand to move aside a stray strand of hair from Misaki's eyes but after the deed was done he found he could not pull his hand back. Instead, it moved of its own accord, down Misaki's cheek to cup his face.

"U - Usagi-san?" Misaki whispered.

Sliding himself from the chair onto the side of the creaky hospital bed, Akihiko gently pushed him onto his pillows.

"Misaki," he breathed, but he did not let him speak. His mouth pressed against Misaki's, feeling the boy's breath hitch beneath him.

The wind kept whipping branches against the window panes, but inside their white washed hospital room it was completely silent.

* * *

And so they have their first kiss! Things will only get worse before it gets better. Please look forward to it!


	5. Allegretto

Sorry for such a long wait and a big thank you to everyone who reviewed. This fic _was_ on hiatus for a while and its continuation is rather tentative but don't worry, I never leave things unfinished unless I'm r_eally_ stuck.

* * *

**Walking amongst the butterflies**

**- Allegretto -**

XX

"That's impossible!" Takahiro cried. Even on the phone his concern hit Akihiko sharply.

"Takahiro, I understand your concern but I really don't think that Misaki should stay in the hospital all the time."

The phone crackled with static and Takahiro's regretful voice surged and faded accordingly.

"Of course you're right. I know that, but this job means that I have to move so often. It would be hard for Misaki to keep changing location, otherwise I would have taken him out to live with me and Manami a long time ago."

"Why not let him stay with me?" Akihiko offered, hoping his request sounded casual enough. "It's okay. My place is big enough and I have the money."

He could tell that Takahiro was smiling in that soft, gentle way of his. "That's very thoughtful of you Usagi, I appreciate it but that's not the problem," that smile had probably faded. "Has Misaki told you about his attacks?"

"Yes, he told me about that," Akihiko nodded. He did not want to worry Takahiro by telling him that he had seen one first hand. Besides, Misaki was fine now. He could look after Misaki just fine.

The tone of Takahiro's soft voice grew deeper; a tenor of sadness. "I was there when he had a particularly bad one. The cause is unknown but the effects are serious. Misaki needs to stay in the hospital. He needs to be in a place where there are doctors on standby. You understand that, don't you, Usagi?"

It was like a blow to the beltline. _You understand, don't you?_ How could he tell such a precious friend that, even though he did, he desperately wanted to _not_ understand? How could he force such selfish feelings on to someone like Takahiro?

"Of course," he sighed.

XX

He found Misaki in his room as usual, playing with modeling clay. He was sure that Misaki heard him enter the room as, for a brief moment, his hands stopped and a faint blush crossed his cheeks, but a second later it was gone and he continued to shape his clay without a word of greeting.

Amused, Akihiko smiled and sidled towards the white bed.

"What are you doing?" he asked, leaning over the bed curiously. It was not until he did so that the boy was forced to acknowledge his presence.

"I'm trying to make a butterfly!" Misaki grunted as he did battle with the clay. Finally, he managed to get it to submit itself into an odd, curved shape, which, Akihiko supposed, was supposed to be a wing. "There! Does it look like a butterfly?"

Akihiko stared at the oddly shaped, asymmetrical insect proudly displayed in Misaki's cupped hands. He supposed that he could sort of see and odd butteflry shape in it but it seemed more like a deformed bee to him than anything else.

"Not at all."

Misaki frowned as he retracted his hands, pouting like a child. "…I know I'm to blame for asking you, but you don't have to put it so bluntly," he muttered.

"Anyway, I bought you some CDs," Akihiko lifted up a plastic bag weighed down with dozens of CDs, which he had brought with him from the car.

"Whoa! This is way too much!" Misaki cried as he took the bag from him. CDs spilled onto his lap and over his knees, too many to count. "When will I have the time to listen to all of these?" he sighed as he pulled CD after CD out of the seemingly bottomless bag.

Akihiko shrugged. "Well I don't really know what kids these days listen to so I bought a lot of different ones…"

"Who added the Braille stickers to them?" Misaki asked. A small smile crept over his lips as his fingers ran over the dotted labels.

"One of the doctors I showed them to. Tana…Taka…Toki…something like that."

"You could at least remember the names of the people who help you!"

Nevertheless, Misaki's frown was merely for show; it could not hide the slight pleasure of being given an unexpected present, and such a generous one at that. Akihiko wondered if that blush was partly out of embarrassment as well.

"The Pillows? Ah, Gatchan!" he beamed as he read the Braille labels. "Uh, the OST to Puki Puki Polka dance? Let's have fun whilst learning English? A hundred nursery rhymes? Marimo mash?" Misaki's expression contorted with confusion. "Usagi-san…what is all this?"

Akihiko shrugged as he pulled up his usual chair. "I told you, I don't know what kids are into these days. I asked a sales clerk help me and then I bought one of every CD he recommended."

"I'm not a kid!" Misaki cried defensively. "And one of every CD is crazy! It's a huge waste of money! Return half of them at least! Return half of them!"

"Ah, I also bought you classical," Akihiko held up a second, separate bag. It was selective hearing; he was not listening to Misaki's protests at all.

As he edged forward to dump the bag on the bed, a cart rattled by the open door. The nurse was a tall woman, whistling a rather cheerful rendition of Fur Elise, yet even so the sound disagreed with Misaki's sensitive ears.

"Could you close the door?" Misaki bluntly asked, his request bereft of the usual hesitation and polite 'please' and 'thank you's.

Akihiko looked at him with a mixture of confusion and concern, though he complied to his wishes nevertheless.

Misaki drew the sheet past his nose, suddenly seeming tired and sick. "I hate that song," he muttered.

"By the way, there was a lot of commotion going on outside," Akihiko, remembering the bright red banners being stringed along the ceilings and the boxes of paper confetti thrown into corners of the halls, tried to steer to conversation away from whatever was bothering Misaki.

It worked for he immediately brightened. "Oh, that's right!" he clapped his hands together. "The hospital is having a fund raising fair in a few weeks. Would you like to go, Usagi-san?"

"Go, huh? You mean a date?" Akihiko smiled.

The embarrassing D-word made Misaki's cheeks burn redder than ever and he spluttered; "D - date?" like a sheltered maiden about to lose her chastity.

"If it's a date, I'll go," Akihiko insisted, perfectly calm.

Misaki looked like a mouse cornered by a cat. "W - why does it have to be a date? In fact," his head bowed with embarrassment, "why did you…you know….k - kiss me?" he choked.

Akihiko leaned forward teasingly, knowing that even the slight increase in proximity would set Misaki's sharp senses into a flurry. Seeing him flustered was too cute and amusing for him to spare the poor boy.

"Isn't it obvious? It's because I like you of course," he whispered in a borderline seductive tone.

"Ehhh?"

"Ah, Misaki sure is slow! He wouldn't get into university even if he had perfect vision and could do cartwheels!"

"Don't call me slow! Pervert novelist!" he snapped.

"I can call you slow because you're slow. You can't call me a pervert novelist because I'm not a novelist anymore."

By the time Akhiko realised the mistake he had made, it was too late to take his words back.

Misaki's body froze. It was as if he had been told that the apocolypse was a mere week away. "What happened?" he gasped, eyes wide with concern.

Akihiko struggled to regain control, to shield Misaki from the plain truth of the incident. He was sure that if Misaki knew about being dropped he would just needlessly worry. That boy was always more concerned about others than about himself.

"It wasn't interesting anymore so I quit." Akihiko shrugged in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner.

"I can tell when you're lying," Misaki's stern voice reprimanded him. "Don't stay silent! Tell me what happened!" he demanded.

"I've just had writer's block for a while and the agency I was with got impatient and dropped me."

"That's terrible!" Misaki gasped again.

Akihiko moved restlessly. Somehow, when it was Misaki who was worrying and fretting over him, it made him feel the gravity of the situation all the more.

I'm sorry about this but it is sort of your fault, Aikawa had sighed. If you weren't so hard to deal with in the past the agency might have been kinder.

"That's terrible!" Misaki continued to shake his head. He looked troubled. "It – It's not because you've had to take care of me, is it?"

"Of course not!" Akihiko leapt to deny it. "Don't say stupid things like that!"

Misaki pulled a sour expression, yet tried to smile as well, despite himself. He was always trying to smile despite himself. "Stupid Usagi-san, before you worry about anyone else, learn how to take care of yourself!" he cried before falling into contemplative silence, which even Akihiko, for all his efforts, failed to shake him from.

XX

With Misaki's parting words echoing Haruhiko's sentiments with such uncanny resemblance, Akihiko finally made his way back to his apartment. He did not get far, however, before he was halted by a figure lurking outside.

"Hiroki?" It took a moment to register his friend's presence. He had not seen the man for a while and, he was ashamed to admit, had been so caught up in Misaki he had almost forgotten about paying a visit to the university as he used to do now and then. What did the man want here?

"Akihiko," Hiroki scowled at him, arms neatly folded across his chest. "You better invite me inside. I've been standing out in the cold for an hour waiting for you!"

"If you wanted to drop by, you should have rung," he replied, a little sourly.

Hiroki waved a hand in the air. "I tried to. Your phone was unplugged."

"Ah, that's right, I tore it out of the socket after Haruhiko called again," Akihiko muttered, more to himself than to Hiroki, who he knew would probably chide him for forgetting to reconnect the phone.

He opened the door and let them both into the warmth of his fully heated apartment. Suzuki-san sat on the couch, silently greeting him.

"And?" he asked as soon as they were inside. "What do you want? I'm busy."

Hiroki glanced around the familiar apartment but did not take a seat when it was offered to him. He insisted that he would not be staying long. "Busy with what? You were dropped weren't you?" he scowled at the floorboards.

"Wow, news sure spreads fast in the literary world. Nevertheless, I have been busy."

"With that boy?" Hiroki asked. " Nowaki told me," he said, his expression softening just for a moment.

"He's Takahiro's brother," Akihiko took a seat next to Suzuki-san.

"A favour for Takahiro, huh?" he murmured. "Anyway, I was wondering if you were familiar with JMLCA awards."

"The JMLCA? I'm not familiar with that," he shook his head.

"It's a new awards ceremony they thought up. Japanese Music, Literature and Creative Arts award," Hiroki sighed. He had that glazed look in his eyes, which washed over him every time his mind wandered to a good book or a pleasant short story he had once read. "Everyone's in an uproar because some fancy European orchestra is going to perform Beethoven's first symphony there or something," he murmured.

"What of it?" Akihiko wondered. He, however, did not get the chance to properly phrase this question before a single ticket was shoved in front of his face. Akihiko could not help but glare at it. "You know how I feel about award ceremonies!" he groaned.

Hiroki glowered at him in return. "So what?" he snapped. "You think I'd give this to you if I could go myself? You wouldn't be able to pry it from my dead fingers but," he reddened, "but, I - I can't go…one ticket was all Professor Miyagi could get me and…it's…I just have some important stuff to do is all!" he finally cried, his face burning red.

"So what did you get him for his birthday?" Akihiko asked knowingly.

Hiroki bristled, stuttering and stammering some incomprehensible defence. His tirade must have revitalized Akihiko's good mood however, for he took the ticket and tucked it into his breast pocket. He could always pass it on to someone else and Hiroki would be none the wiser.

* * *

And that's a wrap! Thanks for reading. The day of the big fair is coming and many things will happen!


	6. Crescendo

Thank you for all everyone's kind reviews. I'm sorry for the long wait.

* * *

**Walking amongst the butterflies **

**- Crescendo - **

XX

It was finally time, Akihiko decided, to do some work. The first few pages went wonderfully; the words came to him as his pen raced across blank page after blank page. Even when the stream no longer flowed so abundantly, he managed to continue writing, thinking carefully about each sentence, crossing out lines, paragraphs, before carefully rearranging his words into sentences that flourished.

His phone began to vibrate and beep besides him, alerting him of the time. It had not been his intention to work so long but it had been a while since he had been so engrossed in his work. It had been a while since he had written anything at all since that nasty spell of writer's block.

However, as well as his writing was going at the moment, he still wanted to visit the hospital. Visit Misaki, to be more accurate. Should he bring another gift as well? Things like films or games were pointless, and he just bought Misaki a load of music. Sweets? Didn't Misaki say something about not wanting to put strange things in his mouth?

For the first time since Akihiko had began regularly visiting Misaki, he spotted the boy, not in his room but outside in the gardens as he was about to enter the hospital. The boy was decked in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and was completely engrossed with more modelling clay.

Changing his course to steer himself towards the wooden picnic table at which Misaki sat. He carefully approached him, wondering if the grass would muffle the sound of his steps.

He had no such luck. The moment he drew close enough to notice the clay in Misaki's hands he raised his head and smiled at the sky.

"Usagi-san?"

"Right again," Akihiko slid onto the bench next to Misaki's wheelchair. There were the beginnings of butterflies lumped all over the wooden table. This time, he could definitely tell what they were.

"It was feeling a little stuffy in my room so I came out here for some air," Misaki smiled, putting down his models. He stretched his arms past his head before bringing them back down with a sigh of contentment.

"Ah, that's perfect," Akihiko pushed the patisserie box into Misaki's hands. "A present," he said.

"Eh? I told you to stop buying things!" he cried, refusing to accept the sweet-smelling box.

"And I told you that I want to," Akihiko replied stubbornly.

With reluctance, Misaki took the box from his hands and opened the lid. "It smells good. Is that strawberry?" he sniffed.

"Strawberry cake," Akihiko nodded.

"You'll have some too, right, Usagi-san?" he asked, fishing out a piece for them both.

"Ah, I don't like sweet things."

"If I'm the only one who gets to eat it, I'll feel bad."

"Why? I bought it for you to eat," he said.

Misaki's expression turned sour. "Well I'll have it since it's bad to waste food but no more gifts! I'm serious, I won't accept another thing you give me!" he cried, attacking the cake as though it were an obstacle made for him to overcome.

Akihiko, watching Misaki dig his fork into the cake with amusement, sidled close enough for his breath to tickle the boy's ear as he whispered; "What if the next thing I give you is a kiss?"

The blood instantly rushed to Misaki face, turning his cheeks almost as red as the strawberries. "I _definitely _won't accept tha - "

He began but his protest was swiftly silenced by Akihiko's lips as he swooped down to taste the strawberry on Misaki's lips. He licked away a stray smudge of pink cream, straightening with a look of utmost satisfaction on his face.

"Th - this is a hospital!" Misaki reeled back, looking absolutely scandalised.

"It doesn't matter. No one's looking," Akihiko shrugged, turning his gaze to their surroundings as if to prove this.

"It does matter! It matters a lot!" Misaki cried.

A flustered Misaki only amused him even more and he moved closer, close enough for his lips to almost touch the boy's neck.

"Oh, that reminds me," he suddenly broke away. Akihiko was sure that had been done with the sole purpose of ruining his fun. However, Misaki was pressing the play button on a small CD player and a stream of class "Vivaldi. Elgar. That guy with the magic flute." "Not bad, huh?"

"I suppose you're improving but…that guy with the magic flute?"

"It all still sounds really similar to me. It took me ages just to distinguish between those three…and then I got mixed up again, and then…" he trailed away and began rubbing his legs with his hands.

"Are you really okay?" Akihiko leaned closer. Since the incident at the butterfly park, he had since associated any time Misaki's legs felt uncomfortable as a bad sign, a very bad sign.

"They're just aching a little," he mumbled, rubbing them timidly.

"Let me look at them," Akihiko pulled the wheelchair away from the table so that he could kneel in front of Misaki. He placed his larger hands on Misaki's legs, pushing up his shorts so that he could feel the boy's bare skin against his cool hands.

"Ah! Wh - what are you doing Usagi-san?" Misaki stuttered, blushing upon first contact.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, running his hands up and down Misaki's legs in slow strokes as his thumb massaged circles into skin.

Misaki shook his head as his face visibly reddened. "N - no but that's - " he trembled, drawing back a sharp gasp as Akihiko pressed his hands even harder against his flesh.

Under any other circumstances, he probably would have taken great pleasure in being able to touch Misaki at all. Instead, however, his mood was more sombre. All he seemed able to think about was how cruel it was that Misaki could not have a chance to live his dreams. It was unfair. He deserved so much better, and he wanted the story to have a happy ending not just in his books but in real life too.

XX

"Misaki, do you want to go down?" Akihiko asked as the promised day of the fair finally spun round. He had his back grudgingly turned away from the bed as Misaki had sworn never to talk to him again if he peeked whilst he was changing.

Finally dressed, Misaki allowed him to turn around again where Akhiko was slightly disappointed that Misaki was not wearing shorts again.

"Ah, just a minute," Misaki grunted, precariously balanced on the edge of his bed, reaching for a cardboard box half stashed underneath it.

"What's that?" Akihiko helped him to retrieve the box without toppling off.

"The butterflies, Usagi-san! I made at least five every day and painted them. Then Kusama-san said he'd bake them so they turn hard like china."

"These aren't bad," he murmured, picking one up from the cluster and turning it over in his hands.

They definitely seemed like butterflies and not the strangely deformed shapes they had been the last time he had seen them. Each was painted in a different array of bright colours with such delicacy that, if h did not know better, he would have sworn no blind person could ever paint.

"See? I practiced loads!" Misaki thumped his chest proudly in a manner which, to Akihiko, was unbearably cute.

"Are you selling them?" he asked.

"I'm donating them."

XX

Akihiko had seen plenty of fairs on TV and in magazines; the stalls decorated with bright ribbons and tacky colours, the candy floss machines and the food stalls and the games stalls where you could win a prize if you knocked down all the cans. This was, however, the first time attending such a fair – Hiroki had always insisted that fairs were girly and never wanted to go.

"Ah, Usagi-san do you want something to eat?" Misaki, totally accustomed to the busy atmosphere that surrounded a fair, pulled him out of his trance.

"If Misaki is eating, I'll eat too," he replied as he watched, entranced, as a small orchestra set up their instruments on a makeshift stage.

"What's up with that?" Misaki muttered but went with what smelt the best to him and ordered a portion of fried noodles for them both.

As soon as food was out of the way, they continued to explore the rest of the fair, Akihiko dragging Misaki to whatever caught his attention and Misaki, wheelchair bound, left with no choice but to go along with him and try to curb his strange wonderment for such common stalls.

"It's noisy," Akihiko finally observed, watching the countless families and couples wandering this way and that. Hours of wandering and weaving in and out between the stands left them both a little tired and gulping down mouthfuls of juice with grateful relish.

"Don't you like it?" Misaki asked, worried that he had been forcing him to endure the entire fiar. He had apparently already forgotten that it was Akihiko who had been drawn to almost every stand like an inquisitive moth to a flame.

Now, bending down with a mischievous smile, he whispered; "I'd rather be alone with Misaki," and nipped at his ear.

"U - Usagi-san!" Misaki managed to push him back. A weak but well meaning smile was enough to stop him in his tracks. It was a weary sort of smile that caught him off guard. "I'm sort of tired. Do you mind if we go back to my room?" Misaki asked, trying his best to fend off any concern with an even brighter smile.

"...Sure."

XX

"Ah, I'm exhausted!" Misaki sighed and stretched when they finally returned to the room. He even permitted Akihiko to carry him to the bed without much fuss.

Leaning as far as he could into the comfortable arms of his pillows, he turned to face the open window from which the sound of classical music was streaming through. "I don't like this music," he pulled a face but he was too far from the window to reach over and close it.

"Are you alright? You look a little pale," Akihiko frowned and slid a hand over Misaki's forehead, feeling for a fever.

At first Misaki went to bat his hand away but something interjected itself before he could complete the motion and instead he jerked a little and sat bolt upright.

"Oh! I totally forgot to drop off my models!"

"Where do they have to go? I'll do it for you," Akihiko said, taking the box from Misaki's arms. It was much heavier than he had imagined but he treated it with care, making sure the models did not hit each other as he moved the box.

"Ah, I'm sorry to bother you Usagi-san," Misaki shook his head.

"It's just a few floors down. Where do I have to drop them off?"

"At the main desk."

"I'll be right back," he nodded.

"Wait, wait!" Misaki caught him by the elbow of his shirt. He carefully fished around the inside of the box, picking up the odd model, examining it, and then placing it back carefully amongst the others. At last, he seemed to find one that satisfied him and, with slightly trembling hands, presented it with outstretched arms.

"F - for you, Usagi-san!"

The shock of being given such an earnest gift had to settle first before Akihiko could replace his surprise with a smile

"Cute," he murmured.

Misaki bristled. "W - what's cute! Just go already!" he cried, flinging himself down and grabbing the nearest pillow he could find to hide his burning face.

As Akihiko gently closed the door behind him, he could hear Misaki breath a loud sigh and flop against the bed. He was exhausted.

XX

Akihiko found the main desk near easily enough and promptly managed to drop off the butterflies on Misaki's behalf. The women at the counter smiled and admired the models for a while and Akihiko had to excuse himself as politely as possible before he was dragged into a discussion about the wonders of art.

Glancing at the main entrance, he duly noted that the sun was starting to sink. Judging from what a hectic day it had been, he supposed Misaki would want some sleep as well.

He was planning to make his reluctant goodbyes but when the lift doors opened and he made his way down there seemed to be an unusual number of interns rushing back and forth.

Shrugging off the strangely heavy feeling sinking into his chest, he quickened his pace towards Misaki's room where he hoped that the boy had not fallen asleep yet.

Until he noticed that the door to Misaki's room had been flung open and nurses were scurrying in and out.

Curious, Akihiko moved closer. There was quite some commotion stirring around the room.

He moved closer still and felt his breath hitch.

The interns were rushing around in a panic, grabbing this and that and holding all sorts of strange looking equipment that seemed more like torture devices to Akihiko than anything that could possibly help someone get better. At the forefront was Kusama-sensei, leaning by the bed.

"Misaki-kun, you need to stop panicking! Just relax and breathe! Breathe!" he yelled. Misaki, however, was obviously not following his instructions for he whipped around and shouted at one of the other interns; for a nebuliser and then he placed something around Misaki's mouth.

"Misaki!" Akihiko strove towards him but one of the nurses inserted herself between them, urging him back with uncanny strength.

"Sir, you can't go in there yet!" she cried, calling more nurses to come and help drive him back.

"But Misaki - "

"Please sir, don't interrupt the doctors!"

He struggled before finally consenting, though never once taken his eyes off of the shadowy figure of Misaki's bed. He could not see the boy for all the doctors crowded around the bed frame but the sound of the machines beeping seemed to echo off of the walls with a startling clarity that cut through him like a knife.

"Misaki-kun, listen! You need to calm down!" Kusama-sensei was bent over the bed, looking more frantic than Akihiko had ever seen him. His heart lurched and he made to stride towards the door again but the nurses halted him in his tracks.

Feeling helpless, he leaned forward, fervently watching the doctor yell; "Look at me! Look at me! Does it hurt?" and the fat tube of a mask around Misaki's mouth bobbing frantically.

His body went limp for an instance. The model Misaki had given him slipped out of his hands, shattering on the floor where it lay there, quite unnoticed, the wings broken.

* * *


	7. Accelerando

A note before beginning: phantom limb and psychosomatic pain are real conditions that people can suffer from. I don't like phony medical stuff so I did my best with the research but if anyone more experienced in this subject would like to leave input that would be greatly appreciated.

Now, on to the chapter!

* * *

**- Walking amongst the butterflies - **

**Accelerando**

XX

"How is he?" Akihiko asked; lighting a much needed cigarette with a match – his lighter had chosen that precise moment to run out.

Kusama-sensei stood with him just outside the hospital, his back pressed against the white washed walls. Like any young doctor who had studied the effects of smoking to a frighteningly detailed degree, he stood upwind to avoid the smoke of the death-tube.

He looked at the cigarette chidingly and sighed, running a tired hand through his hair. "Better now that he's calmed down. He's still in a little pain."

Akihiko frowned and let his cigarette fall onto the pavement, snuffing it out under his shoe. "What happened?"

"It was another of his attacks. It was quite bad this time."

"He was fine when I left him, just a little tired."

Kusama-sensei watched the last of the smoke drift into the air. "Have you ever heard of phantom limb, Usami-san?" he asked.

"I'm not a doctor."

"Ah, well, some people, after they've had a limb amputated, still claim they can feel pain in their limbs even though it's no longer attached to their body," he explained.

"Of course, in Misaki-kun's case, he still has his legs and he still has some feeling in them," he continued before Akihiko could interrupt.

"However, we believe that Misaki-kun's attacks are more to do with psychosomatic pain. Though physically nothing happened to cause him to feel pain, it is possible for the brain to stimulate pain in his legs. I'm sure you have heard of people who feel physically sick under stress though they may be perfectly healthy. In the same way, trauma can cause physical pain."

"Trauma. Like the car crash?" Akihiko asked, to which he received a silent nod in reply. "Is there a cure?" he asked worriedly.

"He can go through psychotherapy, or he may just overcome it over time, there's also a doctor in America who has made a lot of progress regarding phantom limbs, but there isn't a definite cure."

"So it's totally random then?" He said, starting to feel sceptical.

A sigh. A shake of the head.

"Well, we believe there are triggers."

A pause, which seemed to have been needlessly drawn out, though in reality lasted for no longer than a few seconds.

"He usually experiences his attacks more frequently if he is under stress or emotionally imbalanced or if something reminds him of the car crash."

Finally, the opening of a case and the rustling of papers.

"I looked over his records. His legs were severely injured in the incident. Whatever forces him to remember the crash probably also sparks memories of that pain."

"So why haven't you done anything about it yet?" Akihiko asked, sounding more accusing than, perhaps, he had intended.

Kusama-sensei shrugged hopelessly. "I'm sorry Usami-san but there really isn't much we can do."

When he tried to visit Misaki's room again, the nurses stopped him from entering. Though Akihiko tried to reason with them, they were adamant about keeping him out. He stared at the stretch of linoleum leading from the lift to Misaki's room. Someone had cleared away the broken butterfly; he felt guilty that he had let it break, but more than that it seemed like an ill omen of things to come.

XX

The morning he finally sent off his completed manuscript seemed robbed of the usual sense of self-satisfaction. He wondered if he had even paid the right amount of postage; his thoughts had been too wrapped up in Misaki to really pay any attention to anything else.

Though the sky had taken a miserable, bleached colour, it was not a completely hopeless morning. At the very least, he was certainly allowed to see Misaki again.

Thus, with a slight feeling of anxiety fluttering around his chest, he stepped into Misaki's room. It was so dark at first that he could barely see the bed. The curtains were tightly drawn across the windows and the lights were out, though he did not dare turn them on again. Only the fluorescent lights from the corridor managed to seep inside, but when he closed the door behind him the room was again plunged into darkness.

"Misaki? Are you there?" he whispered. When there was no answer, he drew closer to the gloomy figure of the bed and pulled up his usual chair.

Misaki lay on his back, unmoving yet doubtlessly awake. At that moment, he seemed very thin and fragile, as though he could disappear in a sudden gust of wind.

They remained together in a long stretch of silence; listening to the sound of rhythmic breathing, to heart beats and machine beeps, and the soft rustle of clothing and bed sheets.

Finally, Misaki's soft voice reached him. "Usagi-san? I'm sorry if I scared you," he said.

Akihiko reached out a hand to gently ruffle his hair. "I told you not to apologise for things that aren't your fault," he murmured.

"But - "

He glanced at the CD player left by Misaki's bedside. "Do you want me to put some music on?" he asked.

Misaki shook his head slowly. "My ears are ringing a little. I don't want to hear anything really."

Another wave of silence washed over them. He did not speak for fear that Misaki's 'anything' included his voice.

"Usagi-san?" Misaki's voice rasped. "It hurts."

Akihiko leapt to his feet. "Where? Should I get a doctor? Just hang on for a second, Misaki!"

"No," he shook his head, latching onto the edge of Akihiko's sleeve to stop him running out for a doctor. His fingers trembled. "I mean, it hurts here…and here," his hand touched his head and floated downwards to his chest

"Misaki," Akihiko took his seat, calmer yet no less concerned for him.

Misaki, who suddenly seemed to realise that he was making Akihiko worry and immediately tried to correct this, though it was attempted rather poorly. Drawing a weak smile back to his lips, he cried; "Ah- no, it's okay! I know I won't get better, I know that I'll probably keep having these things for the rest of my life but I'm sort of used to them by now. It's not really that bad! Don't be so concerned, Usagi-san, think about yourself a little! How's your book coming?"

Though Akihiko knew that he was just trying to change the topic, he went along with him or the time being.

"I sent off my manuscript this morning."

Misaki weakly managed to pull himself into a sitting position. "That's great! I'm sure you'll get published again! When you do, I'll listen to it. I don't really read books, even when I was a kid I didn't really read, but if I just have to listen to it on CD I will!" he grinned. The worst thing was; he sounded sincerely happy. It was almost depressing.

He wanted to say; be more concerned with yourself. Worry about yourself more. He wanted to tell the boy that it was okay to think of himself first, it was okay to be a little selfish now and then.

Instead, he asked; "Why don't you get treatment for your legs?"

"You mean that psychotherapy stuff?" Misaki sighed a little wearily and buried his back into the pillows. "I did when I was little. When I was just recovering from the crash and all but that stuff's useless. It's just some man who sits and talks to you with your eyes closed. Sometimes they try to hypnotise you or something, but it doesn't work."

"Why don't you try it again? It might help now that you're older."

"I don't really like it. It doesn't work anyway," he pulled a face.

Akihiko stared at him thoughtfully. Although he was no great believer in psychotherapy either, he was willing to try just about anything if it meant that Misaki could get better. The trouble was convincing Misaki of that as well.

Misaki's head remained bowed whilst his hands absently felt along the creases of his sheets, mapping out the mountains and valleys on the secret chart to the land of Sleep. However, though he had seemed tired from the moment Akihiko had walked in, he showed no signs of setting sail just yet.

"Hey, Usagi-san, I know I can't leave the hospital for too long but I think it would be nice to go to that butterfly park again. And if Kusama-sensei agrees to it too," he added.

"Why don't I take you to my place?" Akihiko suggested, though before his mind could be entertained by all sorts of indecent images as a result of having Misaki in his home, he remembered that Kusama-sensei would also have to accompany them.

"Eh? You can't take me home!" Misaki cried.

"Why not? It's not far from here. Just for a day, of course," he persisted.

"Well, I am kind of curious," Misaki looked thoughtful.

"Take the psychotherapy then."

"Huh?"

"In exchange for taking you to my wonderful apartment, you have to agree to the therapy," Akihiko said, struggling to keep his smile in check.

"I'm not_ that_ curious," he muttered.

"Why won't you take it? You never know until you try," he pressed him.

"I told you, I have tried it and it doesn't work. I've tried loads of different methods, it's just no good!"

"Misaki..."

"What?" he snapped.

Akihiko placed his hand on the other side of the bed, effectively trapping the boy beneath him as he leaned forward. A blush instantly coloured Misaki's cheeks and he swiftly looked away, but Akihiko pressed his face too close to comfort and nipped on the lobe of his ear.

"If you don't go through therapy, I'll do perverted things to you until you do," he whispered in what was hopefully a semi-seductive tone.

"N - no, stop that Usagi-san! What if a nurse walks in?" Misaki feebly attempted to push him away.

Akihiko's trailed kisses down the boy's neck, down to the collarbone where he began to suck. "If you want me to stop promise that you'll do it!"

"U- Usagi-san!" Misaki tried to push him away again, fearing that he would leave a mark. "Okay, okay! I'll do it!"

"That's a good boy," he retracted, feeling very satisfied with himself. "I'm sorry, did I tire you out?"

Misaki sighed and shook his head. "No, I'm fine, Usagi-san…maybe a little sleepy."

Smiling, he placed a hand on the boy's head, his fingers tangling themselves amongst strands of brown hair. "Then sleep," he said.

XX

Misaki stretched his arms above his head and drew a long, deep breath.

"Ah, it feels so spacious!" he cried, his voice softly echoing across the walls.

"It is impressive," Kusama-sensei glanced around the apartment with mild interest. "Usami-san, do you think you could excuse me? I want to buy some supplies for dinner tonight. If anything happens though, please call me immediately. I'll be in the area," he waved his phone in front of him for emphasis, a tiny panda phone strap jingling in the air.

"Okay, thanks," Akihiko nodded, knowing that he was probably going to just sit outside the building complex with his phone on standby the whole time, simply to let them be alone.

"Is it okay for Kusama-sensei to be leaving?" Misaki turned as he heard footsteps retreating away.

Akihiko carefully closed the door and returned to Misaki's side. He still found it hard to believe that Misaki was in the same place where he lived, even if the visit would only last a day. It was something he had to chiefly thank that doctor for.

"Wouldn't you rather stay here with me?" he smiled.

Misaki remained in the same place Kusama-sensei had left his wheelchair, refraining from exploring in case he wheeled himself into some furniture of, worse, some priceless antique. Akihiko had to admit, his apartment had seen tidier days.

Without protest, he was allowed to pick the boy up and place him on the couch to rest for a moment whilst he _attempted_ to make tea.

"What's this Usagi-san? Why do you have such a huge bear?" Misaki had caught hold of Suzuki-san and was running his hands over its fur with an amused smile.

"Ah! That's Suzuki-san!" Akihiko gave up on the idea of tea and came round to join him.

"Suzuki-san?"

"Because I admire common people, I named him after the most common name in Japan. I also decided to collect bears. One day, I'll have more Suzuki-san bears than there are Suzuki-san people in the world."

"…Is that normal?" Misaki pulled a face.

"Ah, maybe I should rename you Suzuki-san."

"What?"

"Because you're cute like Suzuki-san," he reasoned.

"Don't go changing my name just like that!" he snapped.

Misaki's protests, however, were cut pitifully short by the sudden intrusion into his sphere of personal space. He backed as far away as the couch and Suzuki-san would allow but Akihiko slid a leg over the side and pressed unrelentingly close.

"Ah, Usagi-san!" he cried, blushing furiously.

"Misaki," Akihiko's breath tickled his ear, "you're blushing Misaki," he whispered.

"Th - that's because you're a pervert!" he pushed him away.

Akihiko smiled and hooked two fingers around the band of Misaki's jeans. "Don't you want to know more about me?" he asked softly. "I want to know more about Misaki. "

"Well, I guess I'm a little curious," Misaki replied, clueless to Akihiko's insinuation.

The smile turned into a grin. He had caught him.

"Then," he whispered, easing closer and closer by the second, "you learn through your sense of touch, don't you? In that case, you can learn everything about me with your hands."

"W – where are you touching!" Misaki jumped at the hand that was suddenly pushing up his shirt and sliding along his stomach. Though Akihiko's hands were slightly cold, it seemed he was being burnt by them alone.

His legs were suddenly drawn onto the couch as well and he fell backwards against Suzuki-san's side. The sudden, frantic beats of his heart, the sound of his blood hammering through his head interfered with his sense of hearing.

He felt a hand reach even further up to his chest, felt a sudden wave of body heat pressing close and washing over him, felt something hard grinding against his inner thigh, and felt his face and neck being assaulted with kisses. His body quivered and he gasped, tried reaching out in the darkness for something to grab hold of and lighted upon the smooth curve of Akihiko's shoulder.

It was too much. He clutched onto the fabric of a shirt to try and steady himself, although he was sure that the world was not really rocking as it felt as though it was.

"U - Usagi-san!" he gasped. "I - It's - "

"Oh? If just touching there can make you blush like that I'd love to see what kind of faces you pull when I touch other places," he heard Akihiko's amused voice, but for some reason it sounded very far away.

He could not manage a reply. His senses were being bombarded by all sorts of sensations and his brain could hardly keep up with the frantic whirl of sounds and touches. He felt the sudden cold kiss of air touching his bare chest, the rough caress of his jeans as they said farewell and were pulled away too.

He gripped hold of Akihiko's shirt as tightly as possible and wondered if this was what it felt like to be engulfed in something endlessly white or perpetually dark.

XX

It felt late when he awoke to the sound of the doorbell ringing. Something hot and heavy pressed like a weight against his body. It felt slightly damp too. _He_ felt damp; his skin was covered with a thin sheen of sweat.

In the gloom, he managed to worm an arm free. His fingers felt skin and ran along the side of Akihiko's slumbering face.

Another round of ringing echoed around the room, louder than before. This time, Akihiko stirred and Misaki felt his breath hitch.

Perhaps he should be bathing in the afterglow of bliss, perhaps he should be freaking out as all the memories began hitting him. However, trapped beneath Akihiko's body, Misaki could only feel dread at the prospect of delivering what he had promised.

* * *

About as smutty as it will get without actually writing smut. I'm trying to keep to the T-rating, I really am. Well, thank you for reading and thank you everyone for reviewing too.


	8. Diminuendo

Hello everyone and sorry for the wait. This chapter was finished a long time ago,; I just forgot to upload it.

A note before the chapter: Yes, I intended to imply that Usagi and Misaki went all the way. Unfortunately, with the T rating, I had to be ambiguous. It is entirely possible for paralysed people to have sex. Well, actually it's a case by case basis but there are many paralysed people who can still have sex.

Anyway, I hope that clears things up, and now, on with the chapter!

* * *

**Walking amongst the butterflies**

**Diminuendo**

XX

"I don't want to," Misaki stubbornly folded his arms. Ever since yesterday, he had refused to face him, always keeping his head bowed or slightly angled to look some other way.

Perhaps the embarrassment of what they had done was too much for the poor boy. Perhaps it was the sudden rush for clothes and cleaning supplies as Kusama-sensei came knocking to take him back to the hospital, which was weighing over him.

Akihiko sighed. "Don't be stubborn. A deal is a deal, isn't it?"

A frown creased the boy's lips as he cried; "Then why does it feel as though you're the only one profiting from it all?"

"A deal is a deal," Akihiko reiterated, smiling softly as he moved closer to kiss the boy, but a fierce blush rose to Misaki's cheeks the moment he sensed the closing of distance and he quickly turned his head away, though Akihiko pursued him.

"Cut it out Usagi-san!" Misaki pushed him back, burning brighter than he had ever done so before. "We're in a hospital!" he cried.

"But you're always in a hospital. If I couldn't kiss you in a hospital, then I would never get a chance to kiss you," Akihiko reasoned, though he grudgingly relinquished all the same.

"That's totally fine by me!" Misaki snapped.

"So you don't like me?"

"What?" he jerked his head up.

"You don't like me?" Akihiko asked, half accusing, half teasingly.

"Ah, I like you plenty. Don't make that face! I can tell that you're making that face! I like you just fine, okay?" Misaki cried and, as though his energy had been spent in that confession, grabbed the edges of his sheets and pulled them over his head.

However, Akihiko was not content to let it rest at that. "Then say it," he whispered, pulling down the sheets until he could see the top of Misaki's face.

"Say what?" Misaki gripped the sheets tighter, refusing to allow the rest of his face to be exposed to such embarrassment.

"Say, 'I love you, Usagi-san'" Akihiko prompted.

"Never!" Misaki face was burning red.

"Say, 'When Usagi-san is around me my heart goes all fluttery.'"

"No way!"

Akihiko tried to pull the rest of the sheets away but the boy was adamant about not letting go. He smiled as Misaki flustered, and realised that he was laughing, though there was nothing to laugh about.

XX

"I don't remember."

Akihiko leaned against the wall of the small office, his eyes skimming from time to time over the shelves of thick books, gadgets and gizmos to the walls hung with certificates from prestigious universities then back to Misaki.

The boy leaned back in a leather recliner, wine red just like the horribly stained carpet. In front of him, a man in a white coat sat at his desk, observing him as though he were the most interesting thing in the world, breaking away occasionally to write something down.

"You were sitting in the back seat. Your parents were in the front. You were going home, weren't you? The police found a picture book amongst the wreckage. That was yours wasn't it? Did you bring a picture book with you?" the man asked, his slightly nasal voice streamed overhead like the whine of a mosquito.

Misaki's eyes were closed and he shook his head. "I don't remember," he insisted.

The doctor frowned, scribbled something down, and persisted. "What about the crash? How did you feel? Were you scared? How did you feel when you realised that you were going to crash?"

"I don't remember!" Misaki shook his head, fiercer than before. "Why are you trying to make me remember something like that!"

"Misaki!" Akihiko started towards him but the doctor flung an arm out to bar him.

"Please, Usami-san, if you're going to interfere with my work I will have to ask you to leave,"

"But Misaki - "

"This is necessary. We need to open him up before any progress can be made," he replied bluntly, as though his patient were a machine to be fixed. Akihiko bit back a curse and reluctantly settled against the wall.

Misaki's hands clutched the fabric of his jeans in a rare bout of anger. "I keep telling you that I don't remember anything! I don't want to remember!" he snapped, distressed.

Although Akihiko could palpably feel the boy's frustration and pain, the doctor remained clinically unmoved by this sudden show of emotion. He tipped the edge of his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, staring at him with a calculating expression.

"Ah, see Misaki-kun, there's the problem," he said calmly. "It's not that you _can't_ remember, it's that you don't _want_ to remember. Do you want to stay in the hospital all your life? Do you want to keep getting these attacks? Surely you know how your family worry about you. If you got better, they wouldn't need to be so concerned about you all the time."

Misaki's head perked up. The very thought of being a burden on anyone was enough to grab his attention. Mutely, he shook his head and the doctor, with a satisfied smile, set aside his pen.

"Now, Misaki-kun, I'm going to ask you to lie back and close your eyes again," he said, coming around his desk. "You are in your parent's car. Look around. What do you see? What do you see, Misaki-kun?"

"…I don't remember."

XX

"Misaki," Akihiko tried to take over the handles of Misaki's wheelchair but the boy had insisted on wheeling himself back to his room. Every time he tried to get closer, in a sudden rush of energy, Misaki would spin the wheelchair further forward.

Eventually, Akihiko sighed and resigned himself to trailing behind the wheelchair.

"I'm tired, Usagi-san, is it okay if I sleep?" Misaki asked bluntly.

"Alright," he said, opening the door for him. "Do you want me to stay with you?"

"You don't have to. You've got work to do, right?"

"I'll stay with you," he insisted, "At least, I'll be here until you fall asleep."

Misaki's expression softened into a more forgiving one and Akihiko wondered how a blind boy could play with his heart so much, making it rise and fall with every little smile or frown or hint of disappointment.

"Usagi-san?" Misaki tugged at him as he was helping him back into bed. "I hope you can get published again soon."

A small smile graced his lips but Akihiko simply ruffled his hair affectionately and did not answer. "Go to sleep. Don't mind me, just go to sleep," he whispered.

Misaki closed his eyes and turned onto his side, eventually drifting to the land of dreams. Akihiko gathered his things, throwing one last, content glance at the bed. However, before he could leave a short, spindly man poked his head around the corner.

"Um…excuse me?" he looked in, confused. He was young, though dressed like a common office worker who had been with the company for one too many years, with limbs that seemed just a little too long for his body. His tie slightly askew, he moved into plain vision and glanced around the room as if seeing it for the first time.

"Yes?" Akihiko raised his question at the strangely thin man.

"Is this the right room? Takahashi Misaki's room, right?" he asked, his voice low and a little hoarse.

"It is," Akihiko replied bluntly.

"Oh, he's asleep. I'm sorry; I'll come back another time," the man smiled apologetically as he began to retreat.

"What do you want?" Akihiko asked, rising from his chair.

The man hesitated and then stepped in. "Actually, it's about this," he produced a small figurine, which caused Akihiko to flinch.

The man had one of Misaki's butterflies with him; fully intact, the light gleaming off of the polished wings. Seeing it in the man's hands somehow added a new depth to its fragility, it seemed so delicate and yet it had never seemed as colourful or life-like as before.

"Ah, I was at the fair and this just caught my eye," the man said, turning it over in his rugged hands. "Well, I wasn't going to do anything except put it on my mantel and admire it from time to time but then I heard that the one who made it is blind. It's quite a remarkable piece, to think that someone who cannot see can create such a life-like statuette."

"So what is it that you want?" Akihiko pressed, a little impatiently.

"Ah, how rude of me!" The man passed him his business card, which Akihiko accepted without interest and tucked into the breast pocket of his shirt. "I'm Asano Shigure. Are you…an older brother perhaps? A cousin?"

"A friend," he corrected as they briefly shook hands. "Usami Akihiko."

"Ah, I thought that you looked familiar!" the man smiled at this pleasant surprise. Fortunately he did not go on about what a big fan he was, or even if he was a fan at all. He was straight to business. "I run a small art company. I'm interested in Misaki-kun's work. I would like to give him a try-out and, if he proves to be talented I wouldn't mind signing him on once he is released from hospital."

Those words made him wince. "What if he's never released?" Akihiko asked, though it took him all his power to say so. It seemed as though just asking that question made the possibility of Misaki never leaving more likely, more _real_.

Asano frowned. "Never released? Does he have some terminal illness? That would be a problem. I suppose it would be possible for us to work around it but…" the man trailed away, beginning to look uneasy.

Already, Akihiko could see that he was trying to back out of getting involved in any messy situations, any needless hassle. The thought angered him, but he carefully kept his expression composed.

"Never mind," he shook his head. "Please come back when Misaki is awake." And he would be there too, Akihiko thought, just in case this Asano character tried anything funny.

Unaware of Akihiko's suspicions, the man smiled warmly and, with a last glance at Misaki's sleeping face, headed towards the door. "Of course, are you leaving too? May I accompany you to the exit?"

"If you want," Akihiko nodded out of obligation and accompanied the man down the halls.

"Some of the artists I represent will be attending the JMLCA awards. Surely a prestigious author such as yourself has heard of it. Will you be attending too, Usami-san?" Asano asked as they walked, seeming strangely interested for someone who only dabbled in art and not literature.

"I would rather look after Misaki," Akihiko replied with a shrug.

"And miss the grand opening performance? Surely you know what that will be," he cried heartily

"I'm not such a big fan of music."

Asano laughed; a sort of professional laugh any businessman can pull out when nothing funny has actually been said and no one expects you to be amused.

"I suppose not," he clapped him on the back. "Then I sincerely wish that you and Misaki-kun will be watching. You can see just a glimpse of the work my company produces."

"We'll do our best," Akihiko replied apathetically and Asano laughed again.

The man said his goodbyes, tipping his hat respectfully as the hospital doors slid open and he walked away. Akihiko briefly watched him go before he too left the building and made his way to the car park.

XX

Letters were crammed into his mail box as usual when Akihiko returned. He sorted through the bills and letters from old acquaintances and homed in on the largest enveloped amongst them.

Kikukawa agency

With some impatience, he tore along the top of the envelope and let the contents fall onto the couch. His manuscript fluttered out and onto Suzuki-san's lap, along with a small piece of paper. This he picked up and turned it over cautiously.

_Dear Usami Akihiko,_

_Thank you for your submission. However, at this moment in time, the agency is unable to offer you representation. We wish you all the best in the future and hope that you will continue to write._

* * *

Thanks for reading this short chapter. The next will be longer (and hopefully up quicker) Until then!


	9. Staccato

Thank you to all reviewers. I'm sorry for the wait and the length of this chapter but I like to consider this one build up for the next. Anyway, onwards...

* * *

**Walking amongst the butterflies**

**- Staccato- **

XX

Ignoring the usual pleasantries, the first thing Akihiko said to Hiroki when they met in his apartment was; "I was rejected. I thought that you were going to pull some strings for me," with hint of accusation in his tone, which was only half-serious.

"Let me see your manuscript," Hiroki glowered and stretched out his hand demandingly, though the expectation in his eyes betrayed his nonchalant manner.

Akihiko mutely handed over his papers and sat on the couch, lighting a cigarette whilst he watched Hiroki skim read.

After a few minutes, Hiroki put the manuscript down, letting no hint of what he thought creep onto his face. His final verdict was; "It's quite good."

Akihiko blew out a long puff of grey smoke. "If it's quite good then why am I being rejected?"

"When an author gets dropped they have to work twice as hard to climb back to the top. Something that's merely 'quite good' won't impress an agency," he snorted.

Trust Hiroki to be so straightforward about the matter, though that was probably why he always liked to run his manuscripts by him first. However, this time he wished Hiroki was not so notoriously blunt with his manuscripts. Everything he said was true; and the thought of Misaki finding out about his rejection left an unpleasant thought in his mind.

However, as usual, he could never stay away for too long. Yet when he pushed the door open to Misaki's room, he found that someone else had invaded his territory in his absence.

"Ah, Usagi-san," Misaki, with his mental index of people's footsteps, looked up expectantly before Akihiko had taken more than a step inside. "This is Shigure-san, he told me that you met him. Jeez, you should have woken me up!"

"It's quite alright, Misaki-kun, you need your rest," the man Akihiko had met not a week ago now placed a soothing hand on Misaki's arm. Akihiko watched his hand with a sour look on his face as it lingered just a little bit longer than he was comfortable with. "Well then, if you excuse will me," Shigure tipped his hat respectfully and left.

"What did he want?" Akihiko asked as soon as the door was shut. He pulled up his usual seat by Misaki's bedside as the boy fiddled with a bunch of Braille papers.

Misaki smiled brightly. "He said he wanted to bring my work out onto the market. Isn't that great? I could get a job and - "

"What did he say about you never leaving the hospital?" Akihiko asked.

The smile faltered. He swiftly turned his head towards the open window, away from Akihiko, who curiously tilted round so that he could still see his face.

"I told him I would be released soon," he whispered guiltily.

"Misaki!"

Misaki bowed his head like child caught stealing sweets; guilty and yet obstinately sure that he had not actually done anything wrong. "Well, it's not a lie is it? All I have to do is get better," he insisted.

"To do that you have to overcome the thing you've kept locked up in you for years!" Akihiko cried,

"Well, I'm having therapy, aren't I?" Misaki demanded; his cheeks flushed with anger.

"It's not that easy!" he protested.

The corners of Misaki's mouth turned downwards in a frown that could match Akihiko's almost perfectly. "You were the one who made me do it, Usagi-san? Don't you want me to be released?"

"I do, I - " Akihiko's shoulders slumped and he sighed. What could he say against such an argument? "I do," he said.

"Sorry," Misaki sighed as well then, in unwitting retribution, asked; "How's your book? What's it about?"

"You," was Akihiko's blunt reply.

"Ehhhh?"

"I'm joking."

Misaki pouted. "That sounded like a pretty serious joke to me," he muttered sceptically.

"It's about a blind boy who cannot walk and cannot leave his hospital room," he explained. "He's contemplating suicide when, one day, a butterfly comes to him from the window. It moves him, it gives him the courage to keep living. It's written from his point of view about the things he sees from his hospital window."

"It sounds sort of sad," Misaki grimaced.

"It has a happy ending," Akihiko insisted. The ending had taken him twice as long to finish as the entire novel had. "In the end, the boy recovers his ability to walk, although he is still blind. It shows that, if you try hard enough to get something you really want in the end you'll be rewarded. The whole meaning behind his struggle was to make him a better person."

"That's nice. I like happy endings," Misaki smiled. However, it was a butterfly smile, which lasted for a mere three seconds before fluttering into a frown. "But, Usagi-san, I don't know much about books and stuff but don't you think that's a little too cliché? I mean, things don't always need a reason to happen. Sometimes things don't have a meaning, they just happen," he shrugged.

Before Akihiko could reply to his criticism, a nurse poked her head around the door.

"Misaki-kun, it's time."

XX

Once again, Akihiko found himself in the dimly lit room, amongst the bookshelves of hefty tomes and silver contraptions placed along the desk. He leaned against the wall behind the doctor's desk, watching from the sidelines like a hawk.

"Now, Misaki-kun, tell me what do you see?"

This time, Misaki closed his eyes and concentrated as best he could. Shigure had given him a reason to try and remember, but Akihiko could not help but feel a little bitter that the man had managed to compel Misaki into doing something he had not been able to achieve without some difficulty.

"A dog," he finally replied. "One of those dog statues with the head that bounces up and down. It was sitting in the front of the car. Mother liked them. She thought they were funny."

The doctor leaned closer, excited by this sudden progress. "Your parents. Do you see them too?" he asked eagerly.

Misaki's brows furrowed but eventually, he replied; "…Yes."

"Who's driving?"

"…Father," he replied.

"It's raining isn't it?" Though his voice remained level, the doctor's pen began furiously scribbling across the page.

Misaki did not reply.

"You're turning a corner now. It's slippery because of the rain. What's going on? Tell me, what's happening," the doctor pressed.

The first signs of uneasiness creased Misaki's brow. "I don't know," he shook his head.

"Think!" He was urged. "It's slippery, it's raining, it's dark and hard to see. The car is going pretty fast! What happens next?!" the doctor demanded, almost rising from his seat.

"It's slippery, it's raining, it's dark and hard to see," Misaki echoed. His brows furrowed in concentration, he began to hunch over and shake his head. "We're turning a corner, I think. I don't know! I really don't know!" he opened his eyes, looking around wildly though he could see nothing.

"Think! Concentrate! What do you see?"

"I don't know! I don't know!"

"Misaki!" Akihiko could take it no longer. He strode forward, catching the doctor by the arm as if commanding him to stop whatever he was doing to Misaki. The doctor glared at him for interrupting his practice.

"I think you already know that Misaki-kun's attacks are triggered by the memory of the crash. Anything that brings back the memory makes him relive the pain of that day," he said nonchalantly. "Anything can trigger it really, even the most common of things, which is why it is dangerous to let him out of the hospital unless he has therapy."

"I know that," Akihiko glowered at him.

"Then we shall continue?"

Misaki shook his head fervently. "It hurts. I don't want to keep going."

The doctor looked at him earnestly and then sighed as if to say; 'What am I going to do with you?' Fortunately, however, the session ended there and a nurse came in to lead them away.

XX

Finally in the sanctuary of Misaki's white room, the boy leaned back into his pillows with relish. His session had left him both mentally and physically drained, though he tried his best to conceal it. He closed his eyes and breathed a deep sigh, inhaling the scent of medicine and disinfectant copulating with the smell of freshener clinging to his clean sheets.

"Usagi-san," he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. "I'm never going to get out of here, am I?"

"Don't say that. Of course you are, I promised you, didn't I?"

Whether Misaki did not reply out of fatigue or doubt, it still saddened Akihiko to hear such gaping silence. It seemed some force drew him to Misaki's bed, guiding his hands to cup the boy's face. He held him tenderly, as though touching a butterfly, his fingers gently brushing over the smooth skin of the boy's cheeks.

"U – Usagi!" Misaki stuttered. "You're not going to – Not here!"

Akihiko instantly caught on to Misaki's train of thoughts, producing a small, victorious smile. "Misaki," he breathed and bent over the bed to press his lips against Misaki's; a gentle, loving kiss unlike the rougher, more passionate ones he often subjected the boy to.

"Don't! Stop that, Usgai-san!" Misaki roughly pushed him away all the same, but still he remained undaunted.

"I promised Misaki and I'm going to keep that promise!" he declared.

Although he would have usually protested to such bold declarations of faith, Misaki simply blushed, looking strangely resentful of the pledge, and swiftly changed the subject by asking; "Will Nii-chan come back soon?"

Akihiko slid back in his chair. He had been perhaps a little too caught up in Misaki that he had almost forgotten that Takahiro's stay in Osaka was not permanent. He wondered what Takahiro would think of this recent change of events.

"Yes, next week," he nodded.

Misaki nodded mutely, and Akihiko did nothing to fill the gap of silence between them. He leaned into the back of his chair, thoughtfully observing the boy's impassive face.

What did he really see during those awful therapy sessions? He wondered. Why did that crash happen? If not for that Misaki could have grown up able-bodied, gone to university, made friends, got a job, led a normal life.

Yet would he have met Misaki if the crash had never happened? Akihiko shook his head to rid himself of such selfish thoughts. Even if they would never meet, he would rather Misaki could live a happy, normal life than be like this. Even if it was a life without him in it, if Misaki could be happy then that would have been enough. Why did things like this have to happen?

"Things don't always need a reason to happen. Sometimes things don't have a meaning, they just happen." Misaki had said

And he was right. Akihiko knew that Misaki was probably right, but, even so, it just seemed too cruel.

* * *

Thanks for reading and I must thank everyone for sticking with this fic so far. Yes, it is coming to an end so...big things in the next few chapters. Please look forward to it.


	10. Cadenza

Thank you everyone for reviewing. Before the chapter though, I just want to address some issues that came up.

**1. The issue of Misaki's doctor.** He's an unsympathetic guy and a bit of a bastard, no doubt, but urging is the most heated he's ever got. If you actually read the previous chapters, you'll see he's never shouted or yelled at Misaki. That said, not all psychiatrists are as nice as one would like to believe. I know my friend is constantly complaining about how rough her psychiatrist is with her and has been complaining (in vain) to try and get hers changed.

**2. Attending therapy. **This is something I was not so sure of at first. I have been allowed to sit in on therapy sessions in the past but I was unsure if that policy has changed. However, I did some checking up and, yes, as long as both patient and therapist consent, you can attend a friend/family member's session with them.

**3. The issue of Akihiko's story.** Now this one is entirely my fault. I can't believe I made such an embarrassing and obvious mistake! I've gone back to correct it. Thank you everyone for pointing it out to me, I really appreciate it.

Sorry for that long, tedious note. Anyway, now we can proceed.

* * *

**Walking amongst the butterflies**

**- Cadenza - **

XX

"Misaki, do you really want to continue with your therapy?" Akihiko asked as Misaki took up his sculpture again. Ever since Shigure's visit, he had returned to his struggle with moulding clay with renewed passion. Akihiko watched with a faint flutter of pride as he noticed sculpture after sculpture gradually improving.

Misaki rubbed his nose, unwittingly leaving a grey-brown smudge there, which Akihiko, on account of its cuteness, could not bring himself to inform Misaki of.

"Of course I do, Usagi-san. I want to be well again and able to look after myself. I can't always rely on you and Nii-chan," he said matter-of-factly, concentrating all his efforts in beating his clay into submission.

"What do you want to do tonight?" Akihiko persisted upon the only half-listening Misaki.

Thankfully, Misaki paused from working and turned his attention towards him. "Tonight? Shouldn't you be working?" he asked innocently.

"It's okay. I'm free. Ah, Takahiro should be back tomorrow," Akihiko shook his head. Indeed, Takahiro would soon be back and then...

Then what? Would he step back and let Takahiro resume his duties of caring for Misaki? Of course not. He was too involved to simply take a backseat but even so, he knew that things would probably change when Takahiro returned from Osaka.

Misaki fashioned a leg from his lump of clay. "Well, I don't really mind what we do but, Usagi-san, aren't you meant to be attending that JMLCA award thing tonight?" he continued. "Some of the nurses were talking about it. Since you're a novelist, you'll be there too."

Akihiko shrugged, remembering the ticket Hiroki had practically forced upon him. "Well, I do have a ticket but - "

"Then you should go!" he urged him.

"I'm not nominated for anything."

Misaki shook his head as though dispelling the evil demons of doubt and marked him with a finger pointed squarely at his chest. "Even so, it's good exposure! It's going to be televised isn't it? You can get on there and make sure that people don't forget about you!" he insisted, the obstinate blush rising to his cheeks told Akihiko that the boy would not back down on this issue.

"There's no point. I really hate these things anyway," he replied without enthusiasm.

Misaki's frown deepened. "Usagi-san! If you don't go, I won't kiss you anymore!" he threatened.

The boy's words did not fail to grab his attention "Oh?" he smiled, suddenly interested. "So are you saying you will kiss me if I do go?" he asked teasingly.

"Th -that's…" Misaki, deflated, withdrew his hand, suddenly realising what kind of trap he had stumbled in to.

"I'll go if Misaki kisses me," Akihiko pressed himself to Misaki's nervously trembling body.

"Y - You can have one after you've gone!" In a sudden surge of courage, he forcefully pushed him away, causing Akihiko to click his tongue as he withdrew.

"Cheapskate."

"Usagi-san!"

"It's a promise," Akihiko interjected before Misaki could withdraw the deal.

"You have to go okay?" the boy grudgingly relinquished without much protest. "I'll be listening to it on TV so don't think you can skip out!"

XX

For many minutes, Akihiko had spent the time reasoning with himself as to why he should not go. He would have needed less than a second to come up with a suitable excuse if not for one Takahashi Misaki, whom he had promised that he would go to these ridiculous awards. No matter how he thought about it and rationalised it, there was no way he could break that promise.

Thus Akihiko found himself being ushered into a dimly lit hall amongst rows of fashionable ladies and smart men in suits, who glanced sideways at him as if demanding to know why he was here.

That was something he wanted to know himself, he thought grudgingly, as he settled on a wine red seat six rows from the back. The stage was brightly lit in contrast to the rest of the hall, lights from the overhanging spotlights gleamed off of the polished instruments waiting to be played.

With a thunderous roar of clapping accompanying their entrance onto stage, the much awaited orchestra took their places. A young woman in a long black dress came forth to announce the orchestra and the piece they would be playing; some numbered symphony or other by Beethoven – Akihiko could not quite catch it. Important names, places and events whizzed over his head, was he only half listened to the announcement with feigned interest.

Finally, the woman retreated and a sudden hush fell over the audience. For no reason he could discern, the silence made Akihiko uncomfortable. His heart began to beat a little faster, though he was not excited in the least to hear this famous orchestra play some Beethoven symphony.

In a sudden, swift movement, the baton swung up and crashed down. Music exploded within the hall, shaking the very foundations of the walls. Trumpets boomed and violins sang with the flutes, thundering and crashing to a baroque beat.

It was amazing.

Yet Akihiko disliked it. It was amazing and terrible at the same time. They played as any first-class orchestra should and yet the rolling drums and mourning cellos unsettled him. Though he himself knew that he was probably being trivial, he wanted to leave.

As the concert reached its grand crescendo, Akihiko felt his phone silently vibrate. Glancing around at the faces surrounding him, each one fixed on the concert before them; he silently slipped out of his seat and made his way outside the hall.

Once he had exited the dim chamber, absolute silences swamped him. As incredible as the orchestra has played, it was almost blissful to hear nothing but the low hum of cleaning equipment somewhere down the corridor.

He leaned against the bright walls outside and opened his phone. No one but the cleaner, sweeping up dropped promotional pamphlets and food wrappers, disturbed his call.

"Usami Akihiko," he answered, partly glad to have an excuse to quit the ceremony.

"Ah, Usami-san, is Misaki-kun with you? Did you kidnap him again?" Kusama-sensei's voice rang from the phone over the sound of traffic and chattering pedestrians.

"No, why would he be with me? I'm at the award ceremony," Akihiko frowned. Something flitted inside of him; a bed premonition.

"Ah, I got a call from the hospital," his voice sounded a lot more anxious than it had a few seconds ago. In the background Akihiko could hear Hiroki's voice as he shouted at someone; _'No, no, take a left! A left!"_ They must be in a taxi. It was Nowaki's birthday after all.

"Apparently, they can't find Misaki-kun," Kusama-sensei spoke again.

Akihiko felt his entire body freeze in that instant.

"I'm heading straight to the hospital but I have a bad feeling that he may have already left the grounds."

There was the sound of honking in the background.

"_You idiot, do you even know where you're going?"_

"Wait! Why would Misaki just leave the hospital like that?" Akihiko gripped the phone as tightly as he could, desperately trying to listen to Kusama-sensei's soft words, which were being drowned out beneath the sound of his own heart.

"I don't know. According to the staff, he was in the recreational room listening to the award festival on TV with some other patients and then, well, something must have happened because he suddenly wheeled himself out. The other patients thought he was simply going back to his room but…"

"I'll go look for him!" he cried.

He was never asked; 'Where will you look?' No one said; 'Do you even know where he will be?' but Akihiko was more aware of those facts than he wished to be. He had no clue where Misaki could have gone and Tokyo was a big place but he could not simply stand and do nothing.

Kusama-sensei seemed to understand this as well, for all he said before hanging up was; "Please contact me immediately if you find him."

At that, Akihiko burst into a run.

Misaki could not have wandered far from the hospital, not on a wheelchair in this rain. Thunder growled overhead and lightning streaked the sky. He had to go to a place nearby the hospital. What kind of place? The park!

"Misaki! Misaki!" Akihiko tore through the streets, hardly caring that he was being drenched by the downpour of torrential rain.

Why would he just leave? He did not understand. Misaki was not the sort of person who did things for no reason. The rain was pounding and the music from the award festival was still haunting him. Misaki's face kept flashing across his mind as he tested the gates to the park and finding them open, hurtled inside.

The trees were howling angrily, whipping the night air to restlessness. Brambles and bushes caught him, scratched against his skin and he burst past them, across the long fields of damp grass, the winding paths, running by the benches, by the swings, anywhere he could think of.

"Misaki? Misaki!" He kept crying until, finally, his eyes found the one thing he was searching so fervently for. "Misaki!" he yelled, rushing towards the silhouette of the boy, faintly outlined by the silver flashes of pouring rain.

He skidded to a halt in front of his, soaking and breathless. He stared with eyes wide open, as though trying to confirm if what he was seeing was truly real or not.

Misaki was soaked to the bone; his clothes clung to his body, his hair stuck to the sides of his face. He trembled and shivered in the cold as thunder raged across the sky. .

"U - Usagi-san?" Misaki took great pain in lifting his head. It was as though it were being weighed down by some unseen force.

Akihiko feel to his knees, ignoring the sudden, biting old that seeped into his legs. He knelt down and grabbed Misaki by the arms, drawing him into a fierce embrace. "You idiot! How the hell did you sneak out of the hospital anyway? What were you thinking?" he cried as he held on to the boy as tightly as he could.

It did not take long for Akihiko to discover that the water streaming down Misaki's face were tears and not rain. He stepped back so he could see his face properly in the gloom.

"Misaki?" his heart thundered with anxiety. A thousand questions invaded his mind. What was going on? What was Misaki doing here? Why had he left? Why was he crying?

Before he could get a single one out, Misaki suddenly gripped on to his sleeve with such desperate force that Akihiko almost stepped back again.

"Th - The co -" he stuttered through his tears and the pain that wracked his legs.

"What is it? What happened"

Misaki shook his head and then nodded, then shook his head and nodded. His incomprehensible gestures worried Akihiko, but he continued as though possessed by some evil spirit.

Finally, taking off his coat and wrapping it around Misaki's soaking shoulders, Akihiko grabbed the handle bars of the wheelchair. "Anyway, let's get you back to the hospital before you get pneumonia!" he cried.

"No! No, I - " Misaki resisted. "No!"

"Misaki?"

Thunder crashed above the trees, followed by a short streak of lightning that illuminated the fear on both of their faces.

* * *

Thank you for reading this far.. In the next chapter, we'll have to take a little step back in time and see what happened to Misaki (and just how he got out). A big thank you to everyone who reviewed. Please look forward to the next chapter!


	11. Bocca Chiusa

Sorry for the long wait. Chapter eleven is now up.

* * *

**Walking amongst the butterflies**

**- Bocca Chiusa -**

XX

Misaki managed to reach the common room just in time to catch the very start of the award ceremony. He hoped that Akihiko had kept his promise and not stayed at home as he would normally have done. He would definitely ask one of the nurses later if they had seen Akihiko's face on the TV later.

There were already people assembled in front of the TV, forcing him to remain at the very back of the room. It mattered little, however, since the volume had been cranked up for the elderly patients who were hard of hearing and he hardly needed to be close to the screen.

Placing his chair by the door, he could he the sounds of footsteps entering and leaving the room. The warm murmur of voices soothed him. He imagined that home must smell like this; coffee and biscuits and the faint scent of old books.

Among the footsteps that passed by outside the door, he recognised most as belonged to other patients. However, one set of footsteps truly surprised him, causing him to twist round in his chair as he heard them approach.

"Shigure-san?"

Shigure clapped a warm hand on his shoulder. "Evening! How are you feeling today?" he asked jovially.

"Fine, but I thought you would be attending the awards, Shigure-san," Misaki replied, trying not to let his confusion turn into worry.

Shigure took a seat besides him, leaning close to him to guard his words from being overheard, as if they were sharing some sort of secret. "I decided to send one of my representatives instead."

"Is that okay?"

"It's fine! Moreover, how are you coming with your..." he trailed away, leaving the silence to fill his unfinished sentence.

Misaki quickly caught on. He smiled nervously. What would he do if Shigure found out that he was worse than he had admitted? Would he still let him work? Or would that be the end? "Oh, don't worry; I'm sure I'll be released soon," he said, and hoped that it would not prove to be a lie.

As if sensing his thoughts, Shigure smiled and ruffled his hair. It felt slightly odd when Akihiko was not the one doing it but it was not wholly unpleasant either. However, Misaki was a little glad when Shigure removed his hand. It had felt slightly uncomfortable.

"Don't rush. There will always be a place for you at my company. Well, provided you don't lose your hands first!" Shigure laughed, oblivious to Misaki's feelings.

They began to listen to the presenter explaining the awards, reeling off a long list of people attending. Shigure glanced at the screen, but it did little to hold his attention. The boy sitting besides him was an unwitting distraction.

"Misaki-kun, I understand that you don't remember anything about the crash."

"Not much. The doctor says that's the root of the problem," Misaki shrugged, wondering why Shigure would bring that up now. Was he having second thoughts about letting him work for him?

However, his fears proved to be unfounded. When Shigure spoke again, he had lost that pensive tone. "Well, if it's any consolation, it turns out that the people inside the car you collided with were fine."

"There was a collision?" Misaki turned to his sharply.

"Didn't you know?"

"How did _you_ know?"

"Well, I'm just trying to say, don't push yourself too hard," he insisted.

Misaki opened his mouth to reply, but whatever he was going to say was lost as the sound of clapping stole his attention. "Oh, it's starting!" he gripped the arm of Shigure's shirt in excitement. "Hey, is Usagi-san there? Can you see Usagi-san?"

"Y - Yeah, I see him alright," Shigure replied, unsure of first, but then the camera closed in on the audience and he cried in a more confident tone; "There he is!"

"That's good. I was wondering if he would go," Misaki beamed. So he did keep his promise after all. Somehow, it felt like a personal victory for him.

"You're such a sweet kid, Misaki-kun," Shigure looked at him with amusement.

A blush coloured Misaki's cheeks. "N – Not really! I – I just - "

"But, Misaki-kun really should think about himself more," he interjected with a smile. "I know that if it was me, I would be very angry and bitter towards the people who put me here."

The thought of hating anyone so much made him stiffen. True, Misaki had often wondered why such things had to happen to him but, he never really thought about blaming anyone. Maybe because he had been just a kid when it happened, but before he knew it, the fact that he could not see, that he could not walk, soon became something that was given. Just like the sky was blue, he never really questioned it after he grew used to it.

"I don't think anyone put me here. It's just an unlucky accident. These things happen, don't they?" he shrugged. He had told Akihiko the same thing, had he not? Some things just happened. There was no reason behind it. "Besides," he continued, "even if there was someone responsible, it doesn't really matter. I forgive them."

Shigure opened about to say something but the ceremony was in full swing and the opening concert suddenly crashed out of the speakers in a wave of brass trombones and fierce cellos, causing Misaki to gasp in surprise..

"I – It startled me," he blushed, embarrassed.

For the second time, Shigue tried to say something but while he fumbled with the right words, Misaki's attention had been stolen by the TV.

"This music..."

"What are you saying?" he finally managed to speak. "You really are a kid if you forgive something like that so easily," he laughed, albeit awkwardly, though Misaki appeared to not be listening.

"This music is giving me a headache," he muttered, leaning back into his wheelchair.

"Don't say things like 'forgive' so easily."

"I don't feel so good," he sighed and turned to Shigure, who had become lost in his own world. "Shigure-san?" he tugged at his sleeve.

Shigure hardly felt the pull at his arm. His thoughts had wrapped him in a cocoon and severed him from the world. "If you say you forgive someone without thinking about it, you'll regret it," he muttered, more to himself than to Misaki or anyone else.

"Shigure-san?" Misaki tugged his sleeve, more forcefully than the last time.

"Or your make the other person feel as if you're mocking them."

"Shigure-san!" he cried. Shigure suddenly looked up, startled. Misaki "I want to stay and listen to the awards, but I don't feel so good. Can you take me outside for some fresh air?"

As if he had not yet fully returned to the real world, Shigure stared at Misaki's face before finally giving a shaky reply of; "S – Sure," and wheeled him out of the room. He seemed unnerved that he had lost himself in front of the boy but, as he walked, he gradually came to his senses and his step grew longer and confident.

Shigure took him to the back of the hospital. The odd patient passed them by but the corridors were mostly empty. He opened the fire exit and wheeled Misaki onto the strip of gravel just before the car park.

Misaki wrinkled his nose at the smell of gasoline and patrol, but it was a faint smell even to him.

It was their first awkward silence together. Misaki was not sure what had triggered it; their conversation or his headache, but he would rather not have shared it with Shigure. The man was usually so amiable, that the silence unnerved him even more.

Shigure must have also felt the awkward tension between them for, after what seemed like an eternity, he cleared his throat and announced his desire for a drink, excusing himself for a moment.

With him go, Misaki began to wish that he was back in the common room where the low hum of voices could keep him from his thoughts. He wished that they had not turned up the volume, just that thunderous sound had split open his head. He would have a headache tomorrow too, probably.

Shigure had left the door open and faint threads of music managed to reach his ears. However, even the subdued notes no longer gave him any pleasure. It was as if someone was running static through his brain and, in the midst of the white noise, Shigure's voice floated back to him.

"_Well, if it's any consolation, it turns out that the people inside the car you collided with were fine."_

He had not even been aware of a second car. He had forgotten that as well. Had it been raining that night? Perhaps it was a cold, spring night such as this, with bitter air biting at his fingertips. Yes, he was sure that it had been a cold night back then as well.

Would that noise just stop? He was trying to concentrate and it was very distracting.

Misaki thought he would probably be sitting at the back. He always sat at the back and played with Takahiro. Why had his brother not been with them that night? Why had he been with his parents? Where exactly were they driving towards?

If only that noise would stop, he could surely remember.

Was it just his imagination or was it getting louder?

The score must have been reaching a crescendo for it crashed in a brass roar and the sounds similarly crashed against his brain. Misaki's body jerked as though the wave of sound had pushed him forward. He thought he was drowning, He wanted to be sick. He could not breathe. He was drowning!

When Shigure returned with two cold cans of juice, the path outside the fire exit was mysteriously empty.

XX

Ambulance lights flashed on and off in a blinding display. In the dead of night, the hospital teemed with life and action, but it seemed unnaturally bright; the walls were too white, the nurses too brisk, the patients that shuffled along the polished corridors moved lethargically in and out the racing trolleys of medical supplies.

Phones rang, people chattered, children ran around and were bid to bed; life whirled around them whilst the three remained in the lobby, inhaling instant coffee and the smell of baked goods in their own frozen time.

"Looks like your birthday is ruined," Akihiko muttered, reached for a cigarette, remembered where he was, and withdrew his hand.

Kusama-sensei smiled weakly. "No, it's quite alright. The fact that Misaki-kun is safe is more important," he shook his head sombrely. Cold drops of water clung to his hair, he looked as rugged and worn as Akihiko but, with an affection and warmth that seemed inexhaustible, he turned to Hiroki and caressed the side of his face. "Hiro-san, it's late. You should head back home, I probably won't get off until the morning," he whispered.

"This hospital makes you works such crappy hours," Hiroki grudgingly conceded. Maybe it was simply out of weariness that he allowed the light peck on the cheek, but the hospital had such a stifling atmosphere that his usual outburst of embarrassment would have been tactless.

"Hey, Akihiko," Hiroki, turning to him, put a hand on his hip.

"You should probably get some sleep," Akihiko spoke on a sigh so that his words came out breathless and weary.

Hiroki frowned at the wall. "You too; you look like hell," he threw him a towel. "Here, dry off before you catch a cold."

He nodded gratefully and Hiroki made his reluctant exit, hailing for another taxi as soon as he reached the main road.

Leaving only the two of them standing in sombre silence, Akihiko eventually pulled away, heading towards Misaki's dark room without a word. As he left, he was sure he felt Kusama-sensei watching his path; the words of condolence left unspoken on the tip of his tongue.

XX

Akihiko moved as silently as he could, gliding into the room without turning on the lights. The curtains were drawn to shut out the stars and the light from the corridor seemed harsh and excessively bright. He manoeuvred himself toward his usual chair, pausing as the sleeve of his damp coat almost knocked something off of the cabinet.

In the gloomy darkness, Akihiko's fingers found the object and he picked it up, peering at it carefully. A butterfly. He had no idea that Misaki had still been making them although, thinking on it, it seemed reasonable when he had the promise of Shigure's company to work towards.

Taking it with him as he sat down, Akihiko ran his fingers over the smooth edges, which had already been baked into china. The silence pervaded for a stretch of indefinitely time, leaving him only with his dark thoughts for company.

"I remember," Misaki's hoarse voice suddenly rasped, shocking him.

"Misaki?" Akihiko tilted his head but the boy was hidden somewhere under a mass of sheets and blankets

"I remember the crash," he said, clearer this time. From under the covers, he emerged, heaving himself up into a sitting position with difficulty.

"Don't strain yourself!" Akihiko leant forward to support him, worry causing his heart to double its speed.

"Beethoven," Misaki continued, regardless. His eyes, normally bright though sightless, seemed glazed as far-away. He did not seem to be quite there at all; he existed somewhere else, in some other place and time, and was speaking in a hollow voice that seemed to echo through that distance.

"Father really liked classical music," he said slowly, drawing long, deep breaths as though he had to take great care in breathing. "Mother didn't like it so much, but she would listen to it if father did. He would always listen to classical in the car. Beethoven was his favourite, he knew all the symphonies and arrangements, he knew which orchestra was best for what and all the names of the conductors that could do a good Beethoven and the ones who couldn't and stuff like that.

"It was playing when we were in the car that time. It was late. Nii-chan was sick so he wasn't with us. We bought him this really nice book and a pen as a get well present and I wanted to get home quickly so I could give it to him before he was asleep so…so I asked them to speed up…and…"

His voice faltered. To talk about such things obviously pained him but, with his straining voice, he continued. Akihiko listened, half breathless, biting back the bitter taste of helplessness as he was forced to listen to such suffering retold with such weariness.

"And…and then. I don't know," Misaki shook his head hopelessly, his voice growing sharper and frantic as he pressed on.

"There was a screech and it was raining so the road was all wet and there was this huge screech like the sky was splitting open or something. I heard mother scream and father was swearing. I had never heard him swear before. And then something hit us. I think the car flipped over or something. Maybe a bit off it was torn off because I could feel a little rain leaking onto my face.

"I couldn't see anything. It was scary. My eyes were wide open but I couldn't see anything. I stretched out my hand for mother but when I did I felt this hot sticky liquid on my fingers. It smelt like iron and it was all hot and thick. I couldn't move. There was something trapping my legs and it really, really hurt. I wanted to die so that it would just stop hurting!"

"Misaki!"

"Then there was this sound. Over all the rain there was the sound of music playing the same track over and over again. Maybe the CD player was a little broken; it just played the same song over and over and over and I had to listen to it whilst some horrible sticky liquid seeped under my hand and something was crushing my legs and mother and father weren't saying anything even though I called for them so many times!"

"Misaki!"

"Then there were sirens and some strangers were lifting me somewhere but my legs were still hurting. I wanted to know where my parents were, but even if they said something all I heard hear was that stupid music playing over and over and over!" he cried, gripping his head as though it were splitting apart.

"Stop it!" Akihiko grabbed his wrists, anxiously trying to see his face, which was streaked with tears. "You don't have to remember if it hurts! You don't have to remember!"

Misaki shook his head fervently. Over and over, he shook his head. "It was my fault! If I didn't tell them to speed up! No, if I had just stayed at home instead of going with them then they - "

"It wasn't your fault!" he cried in desperation. "It wasn't your fault, Misaki! You don't have any reason to feel guilty!"

"I deserve it," Misaki shook his head, calmer this time, giving up on his battle with his tears, giving up his battle with Fate, with life. "I deserve everything that's happened to me."

* * *

Well, I know some people already guessed this and I've been throwing hints all over the place but I still have the urge to shout; 'It's a revelation!' in one of those cheesy commercial voices. Anyway, thanks for reviewing. I hope you enjoy the next chapter.


	12. Con calore

Thanks to all my reviewers. Hope everyone had a good Christmas.

* * *

**Walking amongst the butterflies**

**- Con calore - **

XX

It had seemed like an eternity since Akihiko had last seen his friend. When Takahiro had left, he had still been nursing the wounds of unrequited love, believing that his task to look after his blind brother was a bothersome one ill-suited for someone like him.

How drastically things had changed. How was he to know, walking with Takahiro along that sunny sidewalk, that he would be pulled in so utterly and completely? How could he have possibly fathomed what that seemingly helpless boy could do to his heart?

Yet if one thing had remained constant, it was his friendship with Takahiro. At least, he still regarded the man as a precious person.

If one thing had not changed, it was Takahiro's kindness and sympathy. Thus, when Akihiko faced the man's outrage, he did not attempt to defend himself. There were no excuses. There was nothing that he could possibly say to make anything better.

"How could this have happened? Weren't you supposed to be looking after Misaki? That's what you promised, wasn't it? To look after Misaki?" he yelled, pacing up and down the corridor, looking this way and that as if there was a cure for his beloved brother hiding somewhere just behind the next vending machine.

"Takahiro..." Manami, sitting on one of the waiting chairs, whispered quietly.

Takahiro stepped away, bringing his hand to cover his tired eyes. "No, no, I'm sorry; it's not your fault, Usagi. I'm just..." He sighed, only smiling weakly when Manami soothingly rubbed his back.

Akihiko shook his head. He could understand the man's distress; coming back from a hectic work trip just to find his brother in such a condition. Already, Akihiko knew that he was blaming himself for going to Osaka in the first place.

"Because of guilt, he won't move on. He'll keep having these attacks," Takahiro looked away, pained. "I know that. I know that he blames himself for what happened but what can I do? He expects people to tell him that it wasn't his fault out of sympathy.

No matter what I say, I'm sure he will continue to blame himself. I think, if he can overcome this, he can overcome the whole incident but how? Misaki is such a good boy. He won't inconvenience anyone and he won't forgive himself..."

"Takahiro..." Akihiko could say no more as he watched the man's shoulders slump with sadness. There was nothing he could say; all words seemed so petty and useless in the face of Takahiro's grief.

Footsteps interrupted their private circle of gloom. Akihiko was the first to look up, frowning as he recognised the figure slowly approaching them.

"Ah, Usami-san, I was looking for you," Shigure clapped his back. "I heard about what happened to Misaki-kun. Terrible, isn't it?" he smiled weakly.

"Why are you here?" Takahiro asked, suddenly defensive.

"Oh, I'm sorry, it's been a while Takahashi-san," Shigure stretched out his hand, which Takahiro shook with confusion.

"Do you…know each other?" Akihiko frowned, sensing that no good could come from their meeting.

Shigure sighed. "I was just here to inquire about Misaki-kun's health. It's important in a company like mine to make sure that anyone I take on will be in a position to work thoroughly," he explained.

"You - " Akihiko began, but Shigure quickly cut him off.

"That's what I should be saying," he continued, "but of course that's not the case with Misaki-kun."

Takahiro shook his head. "I believe we've talked about this before."

"Before?" Akihiko looked sharply from one face to the other. When had they talked? Takahiro had been in Osaka.

"Ah, Shigure-san and his brother were in the other car, which ours collided into. Fortunately, they were mostly unharmed," Takahiro explained, looking grim.

Akihiko stared at Shigure as if seeing him with new eyes. He had been involved in the crash? Then was it merely a coincidence that he had met Misaki again?

As if reading his thoughts, Shigure chuckled dryly. "We were slightly drunk. Can you imagine what it feels like to know that, because of your own carelessness, someone has lost their chance at life and," he glanced at Takahiro, "two people, children really, have lost their parents? It's not something a decent person can just walk away from."

They were silent. Akihiko did not know what to say. He glanced at Takahiro as if to gauge his friend's feelings but, for once, Takahiro remained unreadable. He waited for someone to speak, to direct their rapidly deteriorating conversation but Manami was still silent and Shigure seemed lost in his own thoughts.

He had no idea what Shigure intended to do now, neither did he care that much, but before he could arrange his feelings Takahiro finally decided to speak again.

"Please excuse us," he bowed politely but firmly, leaving no room for argument. "Misaki is in no position to talk to you. I'm afraid that Misaki will probably be unable to work for you as well."

Shigure's shoulders slumped. "Ah, I thought so. There is no point in me staying here, is there?" he said, a little bitterly. "But I do hope you will let me visit Misaki-kun again sometime. Please, if you need me…my card," he produced three from the breast pocket of his jacket, one for each of them.

Takahiro accepted it wordlessly, watching Shigure leave without voicing whatever it was that he was feeling. However, Akihiko, watching him closely, could see how his jaw was set in a sign of stubbornness; determination to shield his brother from any and all hardships giving light to his eyes.

Manami came to him and clutched his arm, saying nothing but letting him lean on her for support whilst Akihiko clenched his fists. What had that man come here for?

With a whisper, Akihiko withdrew from the sight to see Misaki. As much as he distrusted Shigure, he could slightly understand the man's wishes. Guilt weighed heavily on his mind and dragged his footsteps. As the door marked 202 loomed closer, he found himself pausing before he gathered his wits and pushed himself inside.

The butterflies were lined along Misaki's bedside table as Akihiko walked in. They stood to attention, as though trying to protect the poor boy from any further misfortunes. Akihiko approached the bed where Misaki lay and idly picked one up until, hearing the boy stir, his attention was stolen.

"Usagi-san?" Misaki groaned as he sat up, yet he appeared limp and lifeless even when he was conscious.

"Misaki," Akihiko touched his shoulder tenderly, as though he would shatter if he used too much pressure. "Misaki," he sighed. "Misaki, listen to me, it wasn't you fault! You didn't do anything wrong!"

At first there was confusion. At first there was no response. Then Misaki smiled.

"I thought you'd say that," he turned, but Akihiko could tell that he did not believe him; he was only humouring him. "Thank you. Usagi-san sure is kind, isn't he? Thank you for being considerate of my feelings," he nodded gratefully, though each word seemed to take all his strength to force out.

"Idiot! I'm not being considerate at all; I'm telling you the truth!" Akihiko cried, pained that the boy could not take his words more earnestly.

"Thank you very much, Usagi-san," Misaki laughed humourlessly and offered him such a bright smile that he could not bear to look at it.

He knew what was coming. Had he not written a thousand scenes just like this one in his books? He knew what was coming, but he had never imagined how terrible it could be.

"It was a lot of fun spending time with you," Misaki said, forever wearing that terrible smile that seemed to want to crush him.

Akihiko hissed as though those words had struck him. He leaned against the wall, clenching his fists tight enough to draw blood. "Idiot, why are you using the past tense?"

"I was happy."

"Stop it." His heart thundered. He could not stop it at all. Even as his fingers closed around the butterfly's wings, he cried, desperate to keep them from reaching the end he could foresee, he could not stop it at all.

"I wasn't lonely at all."

"Shut up."

"But, Usagi-san, I'm okay now. You don't have to be so concerned about me. Thanks, but I'll be okay, really!"

"Shut up!"

The butterfly broke under the pressure of his hand, shards cut into his flesh, dripping blood. As his body heaved and slowly came to his senses, a flood of remorse filled him but he could not say anything.

The silence which followed engulfed them. Misaki, as though noticing his wordless apology bowed his head and smiled wistfully.

"...Thank you."

Akihiko stared at him. He was frozen to his place, his mouth unable to open, his limbs unable to move. No matter what he tried to do, his body would not respond, it was rejecting everything, refusing to accept what was happening.

Misaki quietly shook his head. How could a blind boy who did not even have the strength to walk still hold enough courage to do what Akihiko could not, dared not, do?

"Thank you, Usagi-san" he whispered. "It's enough now."

"Don't give up!"

Give up? Give up on what? Akihiko wondered but he already knew the answer. Don't give up. Don't give up on trying to leave, on getting better, on life, don't give up on me

Yet Misaki continued to adamantly shake his head . "It's enough. Usagi'san, it's enough."

XX

Akihiko's first thought that maybe he should go downstairs and make something to eat only occurred to him when he heard someone pounding at his door and shouting in a voice loud enough to raise the dead; "Akihiko! Akihiko!"

Trundling down the stairs, Akihiko ran a tired hand through his hair before opening the door to reveal a very sour looking Hiroki.

"I thought you might be dead. Why aren't you writing something?" the man demanded, foregoing the usual pleasantries, which they had dropped when addressing each other since high school.

"Hiroki," Akihiko grumbled, stepping aside. "You're lucky I haven't just woken up."

Shooting him a glare, Hiroki barged his way inside, heading directly towards the kitchen. "Come on, I'll make you breakfast...or lunch, if you prefer," he said, glancing at the clock.

Akihiko grudgingly followed and watched as Hiroki got to work; dumping his bags on the side and pulling out pots and pans from the cupboards whose contents he had memorised from his thousands of past visits.

From the plastic bags, which Hiroki had brought with him, he pulled out several ingredients, which he promptly began stripping of packaging.

Rice was put on to boil, vegetables chopped and poured into the stew, which was gently simmering over the gentle flame. Hiroki worked wordlessly, though a perpetual frown continued to crease his lips, causing small wrinkles to appear between his eyes.

Akihiko did not have to say anything; Hiroki knew him too well. He knew why he had stopped trying to get published again.

Silence pervaded; a silence which neither was sure was uncomfortable or not. Certainly it was not agonising, yet there was an undeniable tension in the air, one that stretched tautly across the apartment. Words unsaid, questions unasked and unanswered, promises unmade, all hovering in the air between them as they listening to the rhythmical chopping of the knife slicing through a leek.

Finally, Hiroki cleared his throat. The clock hand moved from five minutes to six minutes past twelve.

"You know, if you decided to give up on writing, that's okay," he said a little awkwardly, slicing into the vegetable with unnerving precision. "It's a shame, but you don't have to write if you don't want to. Don't feel compelled to do so. It's not like you owe anyone anything, you don't have to explain yourself to anyone."

"If I cared about that, I would never have left home," Akihiko lit a cigarette.

"That boy..."Hiroki paused, growing strangely interested in watching the rice boiling. "Nowaki said that he's doing fine. Physically, I mean."

Akihiko let a stream of smoke escape his lips. His eyes wondered over the work surface as if to escape from all guilty thoughts of Misaki.

"What's this?" he asked as his eyes rested upon a brightly coloured box sticking out of the plastic bag. Akihiko pulled it out curiously, turning it over on his hands.

"It was a gift," Hiroki replied bluntly, too absorbed in his cooking to glance at him.

"From your students?" he asked.

"I'll have you know some actually appreciate my no-nonsense method of teaching!" Hiroki huffed, stirring the stew with more force than necessary.

Akihiko opened its contents curiously but, the moment he managed to shake the thing out of its protective wrapping, he almost dropped it in surprise.

"W – where are you going?" Hiroki stuttered, surprised by the sudden leap of activity in him when he had been a living zombie just moments ago.

"Out!" he cried.

"What about lunch? Akihiko? Hey!" he cried after him but by then Akihiko was already grabbing his coat off of the peg.

Even if Hiroki had wanted to question him further he was denied that chance, for as soon as Akihiko had shouted, the door slammed behind him and he was gone.

XX

"Misaki!" Akihiko stormed into his room without any thought to the patients sleeping in the neighbouring rooms. "Misaki, let's go!"

Misaki resisted being pulled out of bed, confusion evident across his face. "Usagi-san? Go where?"

When Akihiko opened his mouth, he began to realise how crazy he must seem to the boy by barging in and trying to pull him away. He drew a deep breath to calm himself but when he tried to explain again, he was interrupted by Kusama-sensei's sudden entrance into the room.

"Usami-san," he looked as though he had been expecting Akihiko to show up. His normal, amiable attitude had been replaced by a sterner expression, which reminded them that he, first and foremost, was a doctor as well. "I'm sorry, Usami-san, you can't take Misaki outside again just yet. I can't authorise this."

Akihiko turned to face him, glowering. "It's fine, isn't it? Just - "

"Usami-san, please be patient. I don't want to have to ask you to leave."

Akihiko bit his lip with frustration. However, when he thought about it, what more did he expect. His idea had just been a crazy whim, it was not a miracle-cure for Misaki and the boy needed his rest after all that he had been through. Akihiko cursed his thoughtlessness. Why had he stormed in here so suddenly?

Misaki tugging on his sleeve, caught his attention. He smiled weakly and shook his head as if in response to Akihiko's unasked questions.

"It's okay, Usagi-san. I keep telling you to take care of yourself first! You don't have to worry about me all the time."

"But I want to!" Akihiko insisted.

Misaki shook his head again. "You've done enough, Usagi-san. It's okay. From now on, you should just take care of yourself."

Though he knew Misaki was too polite, or perhaps too sensitive of other people's feelings, to say what he meant outright, Akihiko understood the hidden meaning behind his words. Misaki wanted him to stop.

* * *

Thanks for reading. The end is only two chapter away! Please look forward to it!


	13. Fortissimo

Apoologies for the lateness of this update. Just one more chapter to go! On another note; I was listening to Sara Bareilles' 'Gravity' during the entire second half of this chapter, which may explain the mood of it, but I definitely recommend it for listening.

* * *

**Walking amongst the butterflies**

**- Fortissimo -**

XX

There must have been something wrong with Misaki's head; maybe he was still sick, for when he heard footsteps coming towards him, he was sure that they belonged to Akihiko.

A moment of careful listening, however, soon proved that he was wrong. Nevertheless, he did recognise the steps.

"Shigure-san," Misaki looked up, wearing a patient smile.

Shigure stopped in front of his bedside, frowning at the landscape of sheets. "How are you feeling, Misaki-kun?" he tentatively asked. His voice was wracked with guilt, probably feeling responsible for not watching him properly.

Misaki shrugged, wishing he had the courage to tell the man that it was not his fault; nothing was his fault.

"Okay, you just missed Nii-chan. He was here a minute ago. Ah, if it's about work, I - "

"It's not about work, though I do have something to show you," Shigure shook his head, fetching something out of his bag. Misaki could hear the zip being undone and the sound of paper rustling. A moment later, Shigure's rough hands took his own, turning his palms upwards. Something slightly heavy was dropped into his hands, wrapped in protective paper.

Misaki's fingers ran along the edges of the dry paper until he found an opening and carefully peeled them back to reveal a smooth, finely polished statue of a butterfly in his hands. He almost laughed. It had been just like unwrapping a cocoon. His mirth, however, quickly gave way to pensiveness. It was his model, his statue.

"Do you like it?" Shigure asked. "Oh, and your pay is - "

"Shigure-san…" Misaki trailed away, not sure what he was supposed to say. He was not even sure what he was supposed to feel. Why was Shigure doing so much for him? Why was he going to such lengths to help him? The model felt strange in his hands. It did not feel like his anymore.

"I know what it's like Misaki-kun," Shigure did not sit on the chair provided but this time took a more intimate position on the edge of his bed. "I know what it's like to feel guilty. It's not enough for someone to say 'I forgive you', you have to prove to yourself that you can be forgiven."

Misaki laughed weakly. "What are you talking about, Shigure-san?"

"I know that that's a very hard and painful thing to do," he continued without pausing to explain. "You know, my brother…my brother was caught in a car accident a long time ago too," he said, though his words clotted in his throat at the end and had to be choked out.

"You have a brother, Shigure-san?"

Shigure laughed humourlessly. "He was a little drunk but he was fine. Well, he was until he found out what had happened in the other car. He's a sensitive guy, my brother, so when he found out he felt so guilty his art started to suffer. He did everything he could to try and make things better but nothing he did ever seemed enough. He began drinking a little, doing nothing all day…"

He trailed away into silence, sinking further and further in to his own thoughts. Misaki remained respectfully silent, unable to bring himself to wake him from his pensiveness.

However, that was something Shigure needed no assistance in. As suddenly as he had drifted away, he quickly came back. "So, I know how hard it is to be forgiven," he said, as though there had never been a pause.

"Is," Miskai gulped, "is your brother okay now?"

Silence was an awful thing.

Shigure smiled, his lips breaking upon the verge of laughter; dry, bitter laughter. "Misaki-kun, you don't need to try and be forgiven if it hurts. I think the way you are now is okay. It's okay to stay here forever. If the outside world hurts, then just stay here. You don't have to do anything if it's painful," he spoke gently, but, at that moment, Miskai hated his voice. It sounded as if he had soaked up all of his sadness in that voice, as if everything that hurt him was quivering on one, soft, wavering breath.

"But…" he weakly protested, "I don't want to run away."

"What's wrong with running away from something that hurts?" Shigure insisted, going heated. "Most things are just bad luck, right? There's nothing anyone can do to change the past. He should have been able to forget about it! If he just didn't think about it - "

"Shigure-san? Are you okay, Shigure-san?" Misaki interrupted before he could lose himself again.

Shigure shook his head adamantly. "That's why I'm telling you, Misaki-kun! You don't have to stretch yourself the way you have been! Don't drive yourself crazy searching for some forgiveness! What's wrong with just living like you have been now, you've been living comfortably so far, right? Then just go on living like that!"

Misaki's hands trembled. He did not know what to say and his silence felt as though it were physically tearing a rift between the two of them. Just five more seconds of silence and maybe they would be thrown into another world, into a place where their words no longer reached each other.

"I - I sort of understand what you're trying to say, Shigure-san," Misaki spoke quickly. "I - "

He was saved from thinking of what to say next by the sound of his door slamming open. Misaki's eyes widened with shock. He could recognise those footsteps anywhere.

"U - Usagi-san!"

Akihiko marched straight in, glaring at Shigure's place on the end of the bed. "I want to talk to Misaki!" he demanded loudly. His tone left no room for argument.

"What's wrong, Usami-san? You're not going to do anything to upset Misaki-kun again, are you?" Shigure asked, confused but cautious, as he rose to his feet.

"Again?" Akihiko's eyes widened, infuriated by that one little word.

Shigure took a defensive position in front of the bed, barring the way with his body. "I know that you've been pushing him to go outside and trying to force him to try and get out of hospital. Please don't push Misaki-kun too far," he said, his voice straining politeness.

Akihiko scowled at him. "What are you trying to say?"

"Usagi-san! Shigure-san!" Misaki cried, fearing a fight would break out at any moment. It was only a few days ago that Kusama-sensei had forced Akihiko to leave. He leaned forward, touching Shigure's elbow lightly. "It's okay. I'll be fine, Shigure-san," he assured him.

Shigure looked back with a worried expression but relinquished out of respect for the boy's wishes. "Honestly, I do worry about you," he sighed.

"I'm sorry about that, Shigure-san," Misaki bowed his head. "But thank you."

Sighing once more, Shigure made his way out of the room. As he passed, he sent Akihiko a warning look, and shut the door quietly behind him.

As soon as they were left alone, Akihiko took two steps towards the bed. "What was that guy talking to you about?" he demanded, but Misaki cut through him with a terse voice, which was hardly becoming of him.

"What is it Usagi-san?" he asked. He sounded almost angry.

Akihiko, however, was not to be deterred. He had seen an annoyed Misaki plenty of times, just because the boy had upped the intensity did not mean he would throw away his plans.

"Misaki, I have a present for you."

Miskai blushed angrily. "Jeez, you're still buying stuff? I told you not to! I told you, it's okay already!" he cried.

With determination, Akihiko slammed a cardboard box on Misaki's bedside table. The fresh flowers in the vase jumped in fright. "If you want to think of it as my selfishness then that's fine, but at least accept the present. It wasn't too expensive but they were hard to buy!"

"According to you, a new penthouse in the countryside isn't expensive either! You didn't have to!"

"But I want to. I want Misaki-kun to get better," he insisted. "You keep remembering the accident. You keep getting those attacks because you can't forgive yourself, but think about it. If some brat I took the trouble to clothe, feed and raise suddenly decided to lock himself away from the world just because I died I'd be furious. I'd want to whack him probably. I'd think 'Ah, who is this brat wasting all the time I spent raising him doing in a hospital wasting away?'"

"That's not - " Misaki paused when the box was thrust into his hands. He felt tiny holes, no bigger than an ant's head puncturing all the sides and, listening closely, he could also hear the sound of flapping wings hitting the cardboard. "Wings? Wh - What did you bring, Usagi-san?" he asked, partly fearing the answer.

"Are you interested now?" he smiled.

Misaki was on the verge of throwing the whole thing out of the window to get rid of the evidence but remembered that, if he did, whatever was inside would most likely die. "Pets aren't allowed in the hospital! How did you sneak them in?" he thrust the box back at Akihiko, who refused to take it.

"Well, if I couldn't bring you there, I thought I'd bring them to you," he said, as if this was obvious.

"I don't see what you're so happy about. What if someone catches you?" Misaki frowned.

"Then let's hope they fly away before someone comes."

"T - This is ridiculous!" Misaki kept shaking his head. He could feel the flutter of wings beating against the box in a frenzy, like a demon struggling to break its seal. Misaki clamped his hands over the top, determined not to create a mess by letting whatever was inside out. "I keep telling you, it's okay, it's okay! Why do you always insist on coming? Why can't you just worry about your own life? I don't want anyone to worry about me! I don't want to feel as if I have to try hard!" he cried, tears gathering in his eyes.

Why was it so hard for one man to understand and accept that? He did not want the responsibility of living. He did not want to carry the hopes of others on his back. It was too much and it was all too heavy. Why could he not be left alone? It was okay to live like that, right? Shigure had even told him that he was fine the way he was!

"Misaki," Akihiko gently called his name, his cool but kind hands running comfortably through Misaki's hair.

"It hurts," he cried, doubling over himself as if his body could create a shell to protect him from the world. "Every time I try, it hurts! If you worry about me, I'll just feel as if I have to do something to stop you worrying, I'll have to try hard for your sake and it'll just hurt even more. I'm tired of trying and failing! I'll never leave this hospital, I'll never get better! So what? It's fine like that isn't it? As long as I'm not bothering anyone, as long as I don't worry anyone, then it's fine to just live like that, right?!"

"Misaki!" Akihiko snatched the box from his hands before the boy accidentally crushed it in his pain. "If you don't like it that much, then this will be the last present I'll give you! But, even if you hate me for it, please accept it!"

With that, he ripped open the top.

Misaki drew a sharp breath at the sound of a hundred wings bursting forth. No longer beating against the cardboard, they became too silent for even Misaki's fine hearing to pick up but he felt them. They brushed against his skin, fluttered before his face, and danced around the room in tiny clouds.

He looked away sharply, clutching his chest. It hurt. It hurt far more than he could have ever imagined.

"B - Butterflies?" he stuttered. "How did you…"

"Do you like them?" Akihiko asked. "Butterflies don't live very long, especially these ones, they won't live for more than a few days. Even so, they do their best to freely live with the short time that they have."

His gentle smile tried to soothe him. Misaki felt a calm, peaceful air about him but even that seemed quite terrible.

"Misaki too. Even if it hurts, isn't it better to live somewhere where you can breathe freely than be cooped up in a cage? Do you remember when I brought you outside to the park?"

"Kidnapped me, you mean," he muttered.

Akihiko laughed lightly. It was a beautiful, rich sound that made the butterflies dance. Leaning down, he caught Misaki's face in his hands, tilting his chin up so that he could stare into the boy's sightless eyes.

"I thought that the Misaki back then was far more beautiful than at any time I saw you here."

A blush quickly overcame him. Misaki tried to look away but it was no good. He was trapped. "I - Is this another line from your novels?"

"It might be. It's a good line, don't you think?"

Misaki closed his eyes, trying to keep his tears from slipping down his face. "No offence, Usagi-san, but it's a little ridiculous," he said, voice wavering with the effort to keep it steady. His hands grabbed fistfuls of sheets. He would not cry, he swore, he would not cry...

"How so?" Akihiko prompted. His voice sounded so kind, Misaki thought he would surely drown in it.

"…It's cheesy," he quivered weakly. "And cliché."

"Then how about this?" Akihiko's warmth neared him. Without time to draw breath, his lips were pressed against Misaki's in a single, comforting kiss.

Misaki gave up. His tears would not be denied any longer. They spilled over, running down his face, splashing onto Akihiko's cheeks as well. This was the worst, the absolute worst. How could he cry like this now? Misaki wanted to wail. Why did it have to hurt so much?

"I like Misaki like this," Akihiko whispered. "Misaki is also beautiful like this, struggling hard to live...just like this."

Finally, he found the strength to push Akihiko away. The sudden lack of warmth that rushed around him was almost suffocating but, to his frenzied mind, it was hardly something to care about. Hunching over himself in a shell, Misaki buried his head in his hands and cried.

* * *


	14. Fermata

This is it, the last chapter. I hope everyone's as excited about this as I am.

* * *

**Walking amongst the butterflies**

**- Fermata -**

XX

Misaki gripped the sheets in his hands, digging his nails into the fabric.

"I...I don't know," he confessed, hurriedly wiping his tears away with his sleeves. "Is it okay for me to try? Is it okay? After everything that I did - "

Akihiko wrapped an arm around Misaki's shoulders and lovingly kissed his forehead; one butterfly kiss, which burnt his cool skin. "You didn't do anything wrong. You never did anything wrong," he said softly.

"But what if I - "

"If you fall, I'll be there to catch you."

This time, he did not protest against Akihiko's use of cliché lines. Misaki shook his head. He tried to laugh but he ended up choking on the sound of his own voice.

"Usagi-san should worry about himself. Aren't you trying to get published? You don't have time to worry about me," he protested, though weakly, as though the butterflies were watching him and could sense his lie.

Akihiko kissed the tears as well. "If I didn't worry about you, I could never go back to writing."

"That doesn't make sense!" he protested.

"Don't you understand? You're my inspiration."

"Don't say such embarrassing things!"

"I can say them because they're true."

Misaki sighed. How could he win against such a stubborn, unreasonable man?

"Don't give up, Misaki," Akihiko whispered; he was tempting him, drawing him away from the safety of apathy with his poisonous promises.

"Usagi-san too," Misaki retaliated. "If – If I'm going to try my best then Usagi-san has to do his best as well. I'll be watching you, s – so don't think you can be lazy! I'll always be watching you."

He thought that he had hit back, he thought that he had tied Akihiko up in the same chains but when the man smiled, Misaki realised that this was what Akihiko had wanted all along. He wanted to be chained; he wanted to be bound, together like this so that neither of them could leave the other.

Misaki bowed his head, his hair falling in a curtain around him. He had been tricked again. "If it wasn't for you, my life would have been a lot easier. Why do you always make me try? Why won't you let me give up?'

He could not say such embarrassing things with the same ease but, leaning into Akihiko's chest, he could hear the man's heart beat and was sure that he probably knew about it anyway.

XX

Misaki sat in the common room, now almost depressingly empty in the early morning, with Shigure in front of him. The man had no problems with being called out at this time of the day. Rather, he was eager and had arrived within fifteen minutes of the call. Now he sat on one of the plush chairs, soaking in the smell of coffee and toast.

"Misaki-kun..." Shigure's words faded away silently but the sentiment of his feelings remained lingering in the air.

"Thank you for your concern, Shigure-san," he smiled apologetically.

Shigure touched his arm with concern. "But Misaki-kun, what if - "

He shook his head. "It's okay. To be honest, Shigure-san, I was really happy to hear you say those things. It felt good to have someone who would accept me no matter how low I fell, but Usagi-san..." Misaki laughed lightly, "Usagi-san is a slave-driver. He just won't let me give up. I don't want to give up either," he confessed.

"Miskai-kun..."

"That's why I'm going to pick myself up every time I fall down. Even if it's a clumsy, pathetic sort of life, I'm going to keep doing my best!"

"A clumsy, pathetic sort of life, huh?" Shigure muttered thoughtfully, reclinging even further into his chair as though he would sink into it. "That's very brave of you to think that way."

"N – Not really," he blushed.

"I wanted to be the one to help you but it looks like you already have someone doing a better job of it than me," Shigure managed to both sigh and laugh at the same time, creating a noise that sounded like neither.

"Shigure-san?" Misaki tilted his head to one side, confused. However, though he could not see his expression, he felt that there was something distinctly sad about the man's countenance. He had always felt that way about Shigure but now it seemed more prominent than usual. "Shigure-san too!" he insisted, not quite sure what he was insisting about. Still, he cried; "Please take care of yourself!"

Misaki was not sure what to make of the atmosphere he felt. He had a definite sense that something was ending but he was not sure what. There was a certain sense of serenity around them, yet it quivered on the edge of frenzy. Thoughtfully, he bowed his head.

Standing, Shigure wiped the invisible dust from his suit. He smiled at him and ruffled the boy's hair, making no comment about what he thought of the boy's wish.

"Good luck, Misaki-kun."

"...Thank you."

Those few words seemed to say everything; their wishes, their hopes, their dreams all packed into that one, brief exchange.

They both bowed their heads to each other in respect as they parted; Misaki wheeling himself back to his room, Shigure walking towards the exit. Though they did not say goodbye, as they passed Misaki was certain that they would probably never see each other again. Yet though Misaki would miss Shigure's company, he could not help but smile.

XX

Akihiko threw on his coat as he made his way outside. If the traffic was good, he should have been able to reach the hospital just on time, if not then he was sure to be late.

Shrugging on his coat, he hurried towards the car park rushing past a man leaning against the wall of the complex with his arms silently folded.

"Hey," the man called him back, his head was bowed and his eyes closed but he seemed to know who he was talking to.

Akihiko stopped abruptly, doubling back to get a good look at him.

"I'm in a hurry," he replied, as tersely as the man had spoken

Finally, the man uncrossed his arms, opening his eyes, he frowned at Akihiko. "I heard from Nowaki. Honestly, some people would consider what you're doing to be sexual harassment," he grumbled.

Akhiko sighed. "Hiroki, if I didn't know you better, I would think that you don't have a romantic bone in your body."

Hiroki pushed himself away from the wall. He could hardly believe he was wasting his time like this but it sure as hell beat grading papers. "Forgive me for harping on about it, but what about your book?" he asked.

Akihiko smiled inwardly, at a private memory only he and Misaki shared. "He said that he would be watching me," he whispered, shaking his head as if he too could not believe it. "When someone you like says something like that to you, it's hard to just give up."

"...You've changed."

"Don't flatter me," Akihiko cringed.

"Who the hell said it was flattery?" Hiroki snapped yet, brightening a little, he waved a dismissive hand as if to shoo Akihiko away. "Well then, if that's how you feel, do your best, _Akihiko-sensei_."

"You don't need to tell me that."

"Ah, Akihiko!" Hiroki called him back just as he was about to dash for the car park.

"What?" he looked back, impatient.

Hiroki dug into his bag, finding a thick wad of papers bound together by a single clip. He tossed the manuscript into Akihiko's arms. "It was good," he smirked, "though I wouldn't show it to the boy."

XX

Misaki was playing with clay when Akihiko barged into the room shouting; "Misaki! Misaki, are you ready?"

Looking up, he put aside the moulding clay - some habits died hard – and wiped his fingers together. "Ready for what, Usagi-san? You just told me to stay in my room."

"That's because I have a surprise for you," he said, heaving something, which made a heavy thud sound, on top of Misaki's bedside table.

"It's not more butterflies, is it? I feel sorry for them, being stuffed into a little box," Misaki said almost reproachfully.

"It's nothing living this time," Akihiko leaned over, kissing his forehead. Misaki accepted the first without protest.

"What is it?" he asked, still cautious despite Akihiko's promises.

Akihiko pressed something. There was a click sound followed but what seemed like a lid popping open. It did not take long for Misaki to guess that it was likely a radio or a CD player.

"If you can overcome this, I think you can overcome the main source of your trauma."

The player began whirling. After a pause, a steady stream of music began pouring out; the first threads of a piano followed by the low trill of one, two violins

"B – Beethoven?" Misaki stiffened.

"Don't you like it?"

He batted away Akihiko's outstretched hand incredulously. "You idiot, Usagi-san! You know I hate it!" he cried, shuffling away in an attempt to distance himself from the awful music. Why had Akihiko brought something so horrible as if it was a pleasant surprise? The man knew just as well as the doctors that it made him sick.

"Listen, to him!" Akihiko insisted, grabbing his hands before Misaki could use them to cover his ears.

"No, he hurts!" he protested, battling him away.

"Misaki!"

"I don't want to hear it!" he yelled.

"Misaki!" Akihiko's lips pressed against his, silencing the boy. For a moment, everything froze; Misaki, the room, even the music seemed to be suddenly suspended in stopped time.

Akihiko kissed him hard, as though he were trying to take away all the pain and worry inside of him. Misaki's body shook with stifled sobs, feeling far more frail and breakable in Akihiko's arms than he had ever felt during one of his attacks.

"Listen to him, Misaki," Akihiko whispered, soothing the boy's agitated nerves with his voice. He brushed back the loose strands of hair falling over his forehead, placing a cool hand against Misaki's cheek. "Listen to it, Misaki. Can you hear it?" he asked.

"This is the sound of forgiveness."

* * *

End.

Even though it's the end it's also sort of a beginning. A new beginning for Misaki and Akhiko to start over and try again. This fic was gave me lots of trouble over the course of writing. There were even times when I just wanted to delete the fic. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed that. Thank you to everyone who took the time to review. You're the reason why I didn't just delete the whole thing but kept going!

ETA: I've had a few requests about a sequel. If people really do want a sequel, I'm willing to write one and I'll do my best!


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